


The Warmest Bed Is the One in Your Own Home

by qualitygarbage



Series: In the Grand Scale of Things [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Barebacking, Body Image, Body Shaming, Bottom Patrick, Crying, Depression, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, Excessive Drinking, Fat fetish, Infidelity, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn With Plot, Self-Harm, Slut Shaming, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Abuse, Weight Issues, Weight Kink, like they try bdsm but they don't know what they're doing, top pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qualitygarbage/pseuds/qualitygarbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick put his hands on his hips. He leaned forward into Pete's face. "Did it feel good, Pete?" He taunted. "Was it a good fuck? Was it worth it? Were you thinking of me when you were balls deep in his skinny little ass? Were you thinking about how fat I am while you were fucking him? 'Cause there sure ain't any on his bony body. Didn't know you liked them thin. I can't believe I fell for all those lies you told me. You said you didn't mind me gaining weight. Even made this big old scene about having a damn fetish. Why'd you say that? Why? So I would balloon into a land whale so nobody else would look at me? Did you want this relapse? Bet you could tell I was gaining and you wanted me to starve it all off." His face was a deep shade of red and he held his hands in fists. "Why do you hate me so much?" His voice cracked. "I love you. I trusted you. I've been nothing but good to you. Why do you keep hurting me?" He sniffled and wiped the tears off his face. "I don't deserve this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liar

**Author's Note:**

> **~*Friendly reminder that this is the second story in the series and you should really really read the prequel*~**
> 
>  
> 
> So... It's been a while... I promised this fic about a year ago... BUT I STILL GOT TO IT OKAY!? OKAY! But good news, this fic has double the porn! Yay! Also like quadruple the plot wow!! This is my first time posting a multi-chapter fic. The whole fic is close to 60k words and I don't think that should be posted as a one shot. It feels so weird releasing chapters. First time for everything I guess. I'll try to have the whole fic up within a week, but check my blog for updates!!
> 
> Also, I want to give a shout out to everyone who has been supporting me on tumblr by either reading about my train wreck of a life or sticking around to read all the fic previews and first looks I post on there! Seriously!! Follow my blog!! I'm doing an event called the Summer of Sin and you will get a free fic if you participate in the event!! More info on my blog! My blog info is in both my AO3 profile and in the end notes of this fic.
> 
> I'd like to do the same thing as in my previous fic. This is a trigger fuck. Way more so than my last work. Nothing in here is healthy. I would especially like to warn those who struggle with eating disorders, self harm, drug abuse, or depression. I hate to spoil the story, but safety first. Also speaking of safety first, please use condoms unlike the characters in my fictitious story. Real life is much more dangerous.
> 
> And I just want to end off with saying that I love you all so much!! I love all your support! From the nearly 90 kudos I had on the prequel to all the people who read and support my blog I just love you all!!! Thank you for everything and it means so much to get all this support from my readers! I love you! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick finds something that nearly destroys his relationship with Pete. Heartbroken, Pete turns to Brendon for comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope your feels are ready to get #rekt ;)  
> Love you~! <3

Patrick was pissed. He was yelling and screaming, throwing tables and shit. And Pete could tell that if he didn't come up with something fast, this would be the end of an era.

He picked up a notebook—one that he knew Pete brainstormed lyrics in—ripped it in half, and threw it at him. "You piece of shit!" His face looked like it could explode at any second as the tears streamed down his face in thick glops. He threw a mug that was on the desk, winging it at Pete who was lucky enough to barely dodge out of the way as it smashed against the wall behind him. "You're a fucking pussy, that's what you are!" Patrick was breathing hard, and Pete knew an attack was coming on. Taking a break from his reign of destruction, Patrick sifted through his pocket. "Shit." He placed his hands on the desk as he attempted to regain his breath.

"There's one in the desk—top drawer to the left." Pete pointed out. Even now, he was only thinking about Patrick's wellbeing.

"I don't want your shit!" Patrick banged his fist hard on the table as he screamed. Pete knew his voice would be ruined for a good month no matter how much lemon-diluted water he drank. Patrick eyed around the top of the desk. He grabbed a framed photo of him and Pete. He remembers this photo. They had a professional photographer take it for them during their celebration date after making the Guinness for their interview record. He smashed the frame on the side of the desk, picked up the photo, and ripped it with his mouth.

This was getting out of hand. Pete took a step forward. "Patrick…"

"Oh no! No!" Patrick marched over to Pete, shaking his finger at him as he stepped. "Don't you 'Patrick' me." He shoved Pete in the chest and stepped even closer when he tumbled backwards. "Don't even try to make me out to be the bad one here!" Patrick stood as tall as he could with his chin up and his fists in tight balls by his sides as he breathed dry wheezes before he could continue speaking. "You are full of shit! You lied to me! You lied to me; you're a liar!" He stepped on Pete's foot as he shoved him again. "You're a fucking cunt."

"I know." Pete looked down at him with genuinely sad eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Like hell you are! You had years to right this wrong Pete, years." Patrick let out a hard cough that made Pete's chest pang.

"Please take the inhaler."

"No!" Patrick shouted with a stomp. He paced around in a circle in front of Pete as he grabbed at the air angrily.

Pete ran his hand through his hair. Patrick was right, he fucked up. "Patrick, I am so sorry. Please believe me. I love you."

Patrick made an abrupt stop. "Why should I believe a word you say?" This was the first thing Patrick didn't yell. He almost whispered it with honest curiosity in his voice. Pete wondered the same thing himself. Patrick kicked the desk and watched as the papers slid off of it and the monitor fell forward. He held a hand to his throat and let out another painful cough. He turned around and stared daggers into Pete's eyes. "I really don't want to see you right now." He tilted his head up and took a few more breaths. "I'm not sure if I'll ever want to see you again."

Pete's head dropped. He swallowed hard. "Patrick, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm leaving." Patrick looked down with fresh tears on his cheeks. "And I don't know if I'm coming back." Patrick picked up the fedora that he dropped on the ground long ago. He searched for a few seconds before finding his glasses and picking those up too. He limped by Pete with his belongings in his arms. "Goodbye, Pete."

"No," Pete pleaded. Patrick spared a head turn. "No it can't be like this. I'm sorry Patrick! I'm so sorry! I love you."

Patrick looked down at the ground. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you lied to me."

\--

Pete sighed to himself in content. Today was a fucking good day. He sat in front of his computer at his desk wearing nothing but one of Patrick's chunky cardigans he left at his house. And he was jerking off to his favorite porn—his special password protected porn located in a hidden folder labeled 'Fatrick'. He was playing the images on shuffle via a slideshow program. Hell yeah, he wanted to be hands free for this. The folder contained a collective mix of the photos he took of Patrick that time he brought a camera into the bedroom, thank goodness it was during Patrick's high weight, and a collection of photos he found on the internet. Some were actual photos, taken at what Patrick would call 'unflattering angles', others were quality photoshopped images and drawings. Pete reached out with his free hand and took a sip of one of his favorite cocktails he only mixed for days like this. He moaned and stroked faster when an image of Patrick from 2007 came on the screen. It was a rare picture of him eating.

Today was great. He was tilting his head back as he rubbed himself. He sighed contently bringing a cardigan covered hand near his face so he could inhale Patrick's scent as he jerked off. Pete closed his eyes, allowing him to get lost in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, he heard a familiar tune play out from his computer speakers. Pete groaned angrily; how could he forget to log off of Skype before beginning his escapade? He almost automatically ignored the call before realizing who was requesting a video call.

"Shit!"

Pete stumbled out of his seat. He tossed the shirt off his body and pulled on a t-shirt as quickly as he could before plopping himself down on the seat and answering the call.

"Hey baby!" Pete called nervously.

"Hi Pete!" Patrick waved cutely at him from his computer. "So, what are you doing?"

"Ah," Pete scratched his head before running his hand through his hair. "Nothing really."

Patrick put a hand to his mouth as he laughed. "Liar! What are you really doing?" Patrick peered around the viewfinder. "Oh my goodness! Pete… were you jerking off?" Patrick giggled adorably.

"No!" Pete was flustered as Patrick continued to laugh at him. "Okay… maybe."

"Pete!" Patrick clapped his hands as he doubled over in laughter. "No need to jerk off on your own. Remember I owe you a free anytime anywhere blowjob?" Patrick made an obscene gesture with his hand while poking his tongue out the side of his cheek.

Pete shivered at the memory of the circumstances surrounding the agreement. "What are you? A cam girl? Quit acting like that!" Pete cleared his throat. "So, can I take you up on that offer now?"

Patrick laughed and sat back in his chair. "No." He smiled at Pete's confused look. "Why do you think I'm calling you right now?"

"Because you could tell I was jerking off and you wanted to embarrass me?"

"As much as I wish I had senses to tell when you were whacking your dick, I don't. I was confused to see you were logged on Skype because you have a record label meeting today." Pete straightened up in his seat. "And it starts in less than one hour? Get your ass on the road."

"Oh shit! Thank you so much Patty Cakes!" Pete blew Patrick a kiss.

"You are so lucky to have me." Patrick made his signature 'cherub' pose with this hands under his chin.

"I sure am sweetheart. But I've gotta go to that meeting now. I'll have to properly thank you later. Love you."

"Love you too, babe! I'll stop by later to pick up my reward!" Patrick blew a kiss and waved.

Pete smiled back and ended the call. He jumped out of his desk chair and ran off to his bedroom, finding some underwear and a suit before running down the stairs as fast as he could. He jumped into his car and had Siri call his office and ask to have his meeting postponed thirty minutes later.

He stayed in his office for a few hours later than originally planned after the meeting. Advertising had royally fucked up the dates of casting auditions and he had to reply to emails, change the dates on all the casting teams' calendars, and give an authoritative "talking to" to each officer of the advertising and event management teams. He was signing what must have been his thirtieth stash of paperwork before the janitor came in.

"Oh! President!" The janitor ripped out his headphones and stood up straighter when he realized he wasn't alone in the office room.

Pete frowned. He glanced at his watch. "Is it that late already?"

He bowed on his mop a bit. "I'm afraid it is rather late, sir." He fidgeted around awkwardly. "Not to be rude sir, but tonight is my daughter's birthday and this is the last room I have to clean… I really want to see her before it's too late."

"My apologies!" Pete held his arms out wide. "Please, don't mind me!" The janitor thanked him and continued cleaning. Pete suddenly slammed his pen down. "You know what? How old is your daughter?"

"She's turning 28, sir."

Pete stood up and reached for his suit jacket and slid it on. "How about we get her something real nice then?"

He smiled as he watched the old man's face light up.

An hour or so later, Pete was stumbling out of his car in his home driveway. It had been a wonderful evening. He stopped by a jewelers that was open late with the janitor. Pete paid for a butterfly shaped diamond necklace for the man's daughter. He was promised that it would become a family heirloom, but Pete didn't care much for that. He was pleased enough to see the look of shock and thanks on the young woman's face when they arrived at the man's home.

 He parked beside Patrick's car; which was odd. Pete would have come home earlier if he knew Patrick was visiting. Pete tugged himself into his house and threw his briefcase on the couch. He originally planned to continue work in his home office, but he'd rather entertain Patrick. Quickly glancing around the first floor, Pete started hopping up the stairs.

"Patrick?" He called. No answer. Pete huffed to himself. Patrick could be so sassy at times.

After opening a few more doors, Pete opened the door to his office.

"Pa—shit."

Patrick was sitting in the desk chair with his back to Pete. He was looking at the monitor in front of him. Pete stopped the slideshow when he answered the Skype call, but he didn't exit out of the folder window, leaving it open and not password protected.

Patrick spun around slowly. He was shaking and his eyes were opened wide with his mouth agape. He was too stunned to say anything, his face completely pale. He wasn't even crying because he was just so shocked. Pete only had a fraction of time before Patrick's senses would kick in as he actually reacted.

Unfortunately for Pete, he was just as stunned as Patrick was, but he had to think fast. Pete swallowed. "Patrick…" He took cautious steps forward with his arms out. "Let's talk about this… okay?" He nodded his head violently. Patrick slowly mirrored the movement with his face still dumbfounded. "Um," Pete ran a hand through his hair before placing it back out in front of him.

"Why are you home so late, Pete?" Patrick asked quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. Pete could tell he still wasn't processing everything yet as his face was still blank. He still had more time.

"There was a problem with scheduling. I stayed all night finishing up paperwork and—"

Patrick's face started to redden. He could almost hear the sound of a buzzer go off; wrong answer. "You left at ten this morning. Office lock up is at eight. The cleaning services come in then; I know that because you fucked me face down on your desk after-hours and we had to avoid them. It's after eleven; Pete, where were you?"

"Patrick baby, I promise it's not what you think."

He slowly rose out of the chair. "I told you I was coming over today. I waited hours for you. Did you even check your phone?" He watched Pete fiddle with his pockets. Pete silenced his phone before the meeting and hadn't checked it since. "I waited so long for you. I just figured I'd get some work done while I was here and…" He gestured aggressively at the monitor behind him.

"Just… Just let me explain, alright?"

Patrick removed his glasses and put his hands on his hips. "Okay. Alright, Pete. Please, explain this."

Shit. He did not plan this far ahead. "I uh, I'm sorry." He put his arms out in a defeated stance. "I'm really sorry about all of this."

Patrick nodded sassily. "About what? Huh? What are you sorry about? The fact that you lied to me? You told me you deleted the pictures you took. Are you sorry that you've been jacking off to pictures of me when I hated myself most?" His face was steaming red and tears were brimming at his eyes. "Or are you sorry you got caught?" Patrick ran his hands down his face and pointed his finger at Pete. "Because you and I both know that I would not know about any of this if I had not found it myself!"

"You know that I love you, right? I love you Patrick; we can work through this."

He looked back at Pete with a momentary look of disbelief in his eyes. "You 'love' me?" Patrick wiped the tears from his eyes and threw his fedora on the ground. "You have me to come home to, but you didn't think about 'me' all day. You only thought about two things: work, or whatever the hell you were actually doing, and my fat! That's it!"

"No! You're more important to me than that. You're more important to me than anything else!" Pete had a pleading look on his face as his eyes glassed over and his voice cracked on his words.

"No I'm not!" Patrick cried out. "No… You lied to me! You told me you deleted this! You told me…" Patrick trailed off as he was overwhelmed by his cries. "You told me that my feelings mattered to you."

Pete took a step forward. "Patrick…"

"No!" Patrick jerked back and bumped into the desk behind him. "No, don't come near me." He sobbed into the sleeve of his cardigan. Pete ignored the warning and stepped even closer.

Patrick screamed.

"I said," He lifted up the desk chair. "I said stay away!" Patrick winged the chair at Pete and it landed a few inches in front of him. Pete cringed in disbelief.

But Patrick wasn't done yet, he started throwing everything he could get his hands on. He was yelling obscenities and nonsense, his face burning red as tears flew from his eyes and Pete's never seen anything quite like this from him before.

It was right after Pete watched Patrick tear apart a photo of the two of them with his bare teeth that he started reacting more. He was babbling as he cried, occasionally getting out a string of apologies as his biggest fear started to manifest. "I'm so sorry!" He cried out.

"Like hell you are!" Patrick let out a hard cough. His asthma was getting the better of him as the attack took over his system. Pete begged him to take a rescue inhaler he saved in his desk. Patrick refused. He didn't want anything Pete had to offer. "You had years to right this wrong, Pete. Years!"

Pete pleaded with him; he told him that he loved him, but Patrick wasn't having any of it. When Pete told Patrick he loved him, Patrick calmed down a bit and gave him an odd look.

"Why should I believe a word you say?" This was the first thing Patrick didn't yell. He almost whispered it with honest curiosity in his voice. Pete wondered the same thing himself. Patrick kicked the desk and watched as the papers slid off of it and the monitor fell forward. He held a hand to his throat and let out another painful cough. He turned around and stared daggers into Pete's eyes. "I really don't want to see you right now." He tilted his head up and took a few more breaths. "I'm not sure if I'll ever want to see you again."

Pete's heard dropped. He swallowed hard. "Patrick, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm leaving." Patrick looked down with fresh tears on his cheeks. "And I don't know if I'm coming back." Patrick picked up the fedora that he dropped on the ground long ago. He searched for a few seconds before finding his glasses and picking those up too. He limped by Pete with his belongings in his arms. "Goodbye, Pete."

"No," Pete pleaded. Patrick spared a head turn. "No it can't be like this. I'm sorry Patrick! I'm so sorry! I love you."

Patrick looked down at the ground. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you lied to me."

"You're right!" Pete cried. "I’m full of shit. But I love you. I love you more than anything else."

He scoffed. "What proof do I have?" Patrick walked out and closed the door behind him.

Pete cried where he stood for a while. He glanced around the destroyed office. His eyes landed on the torn photo of the two of them. They were so happy then, clinging on to each other and smiling with all they had. Pete walked over to the window when he heard a car door slam. The interior light in the car allowed him to see what was going on inside. He watched as Patrick dropped his head on the steering wheel and cried, occasionally banging his fist. He suddenly pulled his head up and reached into the back seat. He unzipped a black bag and took a few puffs from his inhaler before tossing the bag back in the back seat. Patrick tilted his head back, crying while simultaneously regaining his breath.

Pete gripped the curtain as he watched Patrick back up and leave his house.

He lowered himself on to the floor as he cried. He pulled his legs up to his chest as he cried alone in his destroyed office. Pete wanted to beat himself up for acting like a baby, but Patrick was part of his life. He survived his hell of a divorce with Ashlee, but he had Patrick to run to for comfort. Ashlee never knew that he'd been with Patrick the whole time. The relationship started as a cover up, to get the media off of the close relationship between Pete and Patrick. But Pete started to fall for her. He helped Patrick understand polyamory and they had a child with her. The divorce was bad, but he already loved Patrick more. Patrick mattered most in his life.

He had nobody to run to now.

Except alcohol.

Pete picked himself off the ground and leaned on the wall. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Brendon.

_Wanna get wasted?_

He tilted his head back and waited for the reply which came just a few moments later.

_Hell yeah!! But Sar-bear isn't feeling too well. I wanna be sober so I can watch over her. I'll have fun watching your tipsy ass tho lol. Come over?_

_Be there in a few._

Pete grinned bitterly to himself. He padded his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there and padded outside.

He rang the doorbell and Brendon opened up. "Hey bro!" He smiled. Pete noted that he looked a little tired. He turned aside and gestured into the house. Pete walked in with his hands shoved in his pockets. Brendon patted him on the back. "I'll let Sarah know I'm leaving." Pete nodded at him as Brendon skipped away.

Brendon sat on the edge of the bed; his wife was lying down looking awfully pained. He brushed her hair off her forehead and smiled down at her. "How're you doing?" He placed his hand on the bed and Sarah gripped it with a pained look on her face. She still pulled a smile at him.

Pete came around the corner. He watched the scene through the crack in the door.

"I'm the same as I was the last forty times you asked me that." She had a certain glint in her eyes when she looked at Brendon.

"Just looking out for you." Brendon placed his hand on her shoulder and gripped lightly. Even though Pete couldn't see his face, he was sure Brendon had the same loving look on his face.

"I'm not going to die, sweetie. The doctor said it's not too serious."

Brendon bowed his head and laughed through his nose. "I know."

She gave him a small push. "Go out, have some fun." Brendon seemed reluctant. His wife laughed lightly. "I won't be happy if you sit here bothering me all night. Go! I'll live vicariously through you!"

He gave an honest chuckle. He tangled his fingers in her hair. She placed her hand over his. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

Pete turned around on his heel the moment Brendon leaned down and kissed his wife. He did notice, however, Brendon didn't kiss Sarah the same way he kissed his friends. There was so much feeling in this kiss. It was calm and smooth and controlled and everything that made Pete bitter. He waited in the entry room where Brendon left him.

A few seconds later, Brendon came jogging around the corner. "Okay, baby." He stopped in front of Pete. "Well, let's get going shall we?" Pete only shrugged and turned around. Brendon followed him out the door. "Hey!" He called when they stepped on the driveway. He held his hand out. Pete groaned but tossed his keys over. "I'm taking your sorry ass there and home.

"Whatever. Just don't crash my car."

Brendon rolled his eyes as they got situated in the car. They weren't even a mile down the road before Brendon began interrogating. "Okay, what's going on?" He asked with a smug look on his face.

"I just wanna get wasted for the first time in forever. What makes you think that there's something wrong?"

"Aw, man. I wonder. Let's go down the list then. We are not the drinking type first of all. You call me, rather than Patrick or someone else in your band. And…" Brendon turned around and gave Pete an over exaggerated pouty face. "You didn't give me my hello kiss!"

They drove in silence for a few moments. "It was a hard day at the office," Pete answered quietly.

Brendon didn't say anything for a while, but he patted a hand on Pete's shoulder after some time had passed. "We'll just get a few drinks in you."

Pete gave him a hard smile.

Brendon pushed open the doors to the bar in a very dramatic 'Brendon' way. He sauntered to the counter and dropped himself on the stool with Pete in tow. "Hey, Nick. We need to get my boy drunk off his ass." Brendon gave Pete a hard shake from his shoulder.

Nick laughed as he turned around and leaned his hands on the table. "Brendon! Pete! It's been a while!" He gave a handshake to Brendon and smiled at Pete's glum face. "So, what can I do for you boys?"

Pete held his head up with his hand and elbow propped on the counter. He twirled his finger on his other hand in the air. "Beam me up, Scotty."

The bartender laughed. "Haha! I got you, son. And you, Brendon?"

"I'll just have some orange juice. I'll be taking him home."

"Alright then!" The two watched the little show Nick put on as he flipped the bottles around in the air as he prepared their drinks. Brendon fawned at him with wide eyes.

"I just love watching you do that!"

He placed each drink in front of the respective customer. "I don't do it too often now, but that little look on your face gets me every time."

Brendon smiled at Nick as he walked off.

"How long have you been fucking him?" Pete asked as he took a sip of his drink.

Brendon scoffed. "Please, Pete. I'm not the town slut." Pete only raised an eyebrow. "Okay, his wife was out of town and I left my wallet at home. It was only a blowjob." Pete planned on teasing Brendon more, but he looked genuinely embarrassed, so Pete dropped the subject. "So are you going to tell me what's wrong yet?"

"What makes you think there's something wrong?"

"Come on! You know you're not fooling anyone. Your face is so long you've got dirt on your chin." Pete shrugged. "How pissed is he?" Brendon asked with a knowing smile on his face.

"Hella." Pete waved his hand at the bartender when he came back around. "Shot of Vodka please."

Brendon's eyes lit up as he leaned in. "What did you do?"

Pete downed his shot and hit the counter. "Keep 'em coming, Nick!" He turned back to Brendon. "I am not drunk enough to talk about that yet."

"Okay… but you two didn't like… break up or anything, right?"

He blew out a long puff of air and took another shot. "I don't know Bren." Pete wishes he could take a picture of the complete shock on Brendon's face. He shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

Brendon bit his lip and took a sip of his orange juice. "Well… what did he say?"

Pete picked up the shot glass the same second Nick placed it in front of him and downed it so fast Brendon thought he would choke. "He said… well shit, Brendon. It's not really what he said. It's what he did." Pete reached for the next glass and spun it around a bit in his hand before taking it down slower this time. "He trashed my office. He threw a chair at me."

"No shit?"

"None." Pete placed the glass back down and sighed. "Then he ripped my lyric book, tried to kill me with a mug, and ripped a photo of us with his bare teeth. He was having an asthma attack through the whole thing because he left his inhaler in the car and he didn't want to take the one in my desk because it was 'mine'."

"I can't believe it man. That just doesn't sound like Patrick."

He only shrugged. "Patrick's a bit more aggressive than people think honestly." Pete placed his empty cup in front of him and peered into it with an exhausted look.

"It's always the cute ones."

"Yeah, I bet." Pete smiled bitterly.

Brendon looked up at him with concerned eyes. "But is it over?"

"Yes… no… Hell. I have no idea." Pete ran a hand through his hair. "I know I still want him." He leaned his face into Brendon's and whispered. "I want him back so much it might kill me." He pulled himself back into his own stool space and looked up. "You know what he said to me before he left?" He smiled at Brendon spitefully out the corner of his eye. "He told me he was leaving and that he doesn't know if he'll ever come back."

"Oh."

Pete looked at him curiously. "'Oh'?"

Brendon shrugged. "Well, it doesn't sound like it's over. Look, I don't really know what you did, but Patrick seemed to just be reacting to that and he was hella mad. Not to emasculate Patrick or anything, but Sarah told me that if a girl wrecks your shit and screams and keys your car and all that jazz, you still have a chance. There's still a lot of feeling and uncultivated emotion there. It's when they calmly pack themselves up, all clear in the head. Then you know they're gone."

Pete looked down in thought for a few moments. "Hey Nick," The bartender crossed back over to them. "Can I get a scotch?"

Nick picked up the empty shot glasses and nodded. "You'll be done soon, sonny. I don't care how much rock star money you've got, I'm not getting anything on my conscience. Clear?"

"Yeah, clear." Pete pulled a hard toothy smile. He turned back to Brendon. "But Patrick's no girl. And he's…"

Brendon folded his arms on the counter. "Yeah?"

Pete dropped his head into both hands. Scratching furiously at his scalp, he muttered a thanks to Nick when he heard the glass clank on the counter in front of him. "He's talked about this before."

"And by 'this' you mean…?"

"He's talked about breaking up with me before." Pete rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger as he reached for the glass with his other hand. Brendon remembered that Patrick was the 'fun' drunk. Not Pete.

Brendon banged the table before running his hand down his chin. "Shit dude." Brendon shook his head. "When was this? When was the last time he said something like that?"

"Before we went to your club. It was the morning of."

He opened his mouth in disbelief. "That recently?"

Pete drank some of his scotch as he nodded. "I haven't been so good to him lately. I think it's just fate willing it to end at this point."

Brendon slapped him on the back. "Oh come on! I really don't think it's completely over between you two. You know, you guys are kinda married at this point. And for way longer than me and Sarah. You're just having a real rough fight. It'll mend. What did you do to get him so worked up anyway?"

He clicked his tongue. "It's real bad Bren." He looked at Brendon with aged features as the stress and alcohol layered on him. "Patrick is… he's gonna kill me for telling you this. Patrick's relapsing." Brendon gave him a teary eyed look. "I think some insensitive ass of a doctor told him to watch his BMI. He's been putting on some, it's obvious. But it's because he's happy. The band is back together, we're topping charts again, and Patrick eats when he's happy. So it's a bad cycle because he thinks he's fat, stops eating, and is less happy than when we began."

"But you've always been there for him."

"Always. But…"

Brendon smiled incredulously. "But what? Pete! You are like his knight in shining armor! He loves you!"

Pete held his hands up. "That's just it, man. I’m not."

"What—what are you saying?"

He sighed and whispered. "I haven't been supporting Patrick. I haven't been supporting his recovery."

The statement didn't completely register with Brendon yet. His face contained an even mix of confusion and disbelief. "But that's not true. You've taken him to the support meetings. I've heard the things you say to him. He talks endlessly about you. You—"

"I'm toxic, Brendon." Pete had tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "I'm not helping him the way that he needs. And he found out."

Brendon shook his head and laughed. "Pete, buddy. That didn't clarify anything."

"I know… I just…" Pete downed the rest of his drink in one go. "Patrick thinks I loved him more when he was unhealthy."

"But you told him that isn't true right?"

"Hell yes I told him! I love him Brendon. But… it's really not something I can talk about."

Brendon stiffed a smile. "That's fine. You're not required to tell me anything." He winked at Pete. "Hey Nick!"

"Yeah?" The bartender made his way over.

"Can we get my bro here another scotch? He deserves it." Nick gave him a hard glare. Brendon gave him a sweet face. "Please?" Nick rolled his eyes, but placed another drink in front of Pete and refilled Brendon's orange juice.

"Thanks," Pete whispered to his friend. Brendon just smiled back.

Pete swished his scotch around in the glass. "I almost forgot that Patrick was the one people liked getting drunk with. I just get broody."

"Correction," Brendon pointed out, "You're always broody. The alcohol just brings it out." Pete took swig of his scotch. "You know Patrick still loves you, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I've seen the way he looks at you. Just last week at Andy's niece's birthday, it was so sweet man! Love doesn't just end like that. Especially love that strong. It's a slow decline Pete, and I doubt the slope is as steep as you think it is."

Pete finished his drink and took out his wallet he placed two $100 bills under the cup as he turned to leave. "Good night, Nick." Pete barely managed a wave before he was stumbling off his feet; Brendon jumped down from his stool just in time to catch him.

"I knew I shouldn't have given you so much." Nick shook his head. "Brendon, watch over him, will ya?"

Brendon gave him the thumbs up. "Don't worry about it!" He helped Pete regain his balance. "Have a good night, Nick."

"Good night, boys."

The pair wobbled into the parking lot and Brendon helped Pete load himself into the passenger seat. Brendon slid into the driver's seat next to him and backed out of the lot. Pete began messing with the radio. He switched every five or so seconds, never settling on a station.

Brendon was not a person who got annoyed easily, but Pete was managing to get under his skin. "Maybe the reason why you can't settle on a station is because you never actually listen to the radio. Put your phone in the auxiliary or something."

Pete only shut off the radio. He sat quietly for a while before groaning and rubbing his face. "I don't think Patrick wants me back at all."

"What makes you say that? We just talked about this, he's still hot for you I'm sure."

Pete rustled around in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. "I guess I can just ask him."

Brendon looked over with a disapproving yet worried expression on his face. "I don't think that's such a good idea, bro. Drunk texts are either the best thing or worst thing to receive."

"But I have to know!" Pete gave him huge eyes. He looked like Bronx when he knew a secret was behind held from him.

The younger man shrugged and hit the steering wheel. "I guess I can't really stop you then. But pay attention to autocorrect, okay?" Brendon drove the rest of the way in silence. When he got to Pete's drive way, he glanced over to his friend who was looking even glummer than he had been all night. "You okay there?" Pete didn't answer and Brendon sighed as he parked the car. "He's probably really emotional and mad at you right now. You can't really expect him to reply. What did you send him?"

"Just a couple texts."

"A couple? Like two?"

He shrugged. "A bit more than that."

Brendon couldn't stifle that laugh. "You sound desperate. And he's probably really upset. Chances are he's not talking to anyone." He opened the door. "And try not to take it too personal, but you might be the last person Patrick wants to talk to right now." He slammed the door shut and walked around to help peel Pete off the seat. Pete stumbled on him as he rose. "Easy there. Don't forget how legs work." He used Pete's keys to get the door open. "Alright," He watched Pete stumble in behind him. "Let's get you to bed."

Pete made his way to the stairs and fell face first into them before even taking the first step.

Brendon clapped and laughed. "Who says you're not a funny drunk? Come on, man!"

"I'll sleep here." He mumbled into the step.

"No you won't!" He laughed and stepped around Pete as he went up the stairs. "Let's go." He reached down and pulled on Pete's hands, but he only groaned in response. Brendon sighed and hauled Pete over his back to assist him up the steps.

Once they got to the top, Pete toppled around the hall to his room and flopped himself down on the bed. Brendon followed him in with his arms folded. "Are you going to sleep in a suit?" Pete growled as he fought the suit jacket off his body and kicked his shoes off his feet, but they remained on the bed. Brendon sighed and helped him out. He removed the jacket and shoes from the bed before taking the socks and tie off of Pete. Brendon pushed Pete onto his back and Pete looked up at him with hazy eyes. Brendon bit his lip.

"Can't sleep in a belt, can you?"

Pete shook his head, flipping it from side to side on the bed. "Not gonna sleep with pants on," he mumbled out. Pete spent a fair amount of time attempting to undo his belt buckle, but ended up failing. He tried to kick his legs and hips up in the air to remove the pants without taking off the belt, but just gave up and flopped back on the bed.

Brendon laughed and shook his head at the display. "Looks like you don't have a problem sleeping with pants on, actually."

"No…" Pete continued to make incoherent sounds of complaint. "Help me out. I practically raised you."

"Pete! You are not that old!"

"You're a baby. I changed your diaper."

"You are literally only eight years older than me get a grip."

He threw his hips in the air again. "Respect your elders! Shut up and help me!"

Brendon let out a nervous laugh. He shakily brought his hands to Pete's belt and unfastened it before helping Pete kick them off. He let out a puff of air. "There. All set now?" He pulled out his phone. "It's getting late and you need to sleep off all this…" He gestured to Pete's disorganized stature, "Drunk."

"No!" Pete managed to scare the living shit out of Brendon as he suddenly shouted and gripped his shirt. He looked up at Brendon with fearful and teary eyes. "I don't want to sleep alone." He sniffled and rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't latched to Brendon's shirt. "It's really lonely over here."

"Uh," Brendon swallowed hard. It made sense; Pete had just lost the love of his life, and he was a drunk sad mess. He'd do the same for Brendon. Probably even pull up his favorite porn too. "Yeah, let me just tell Sarah I'm staying." He sent her a quick text and silenced his phone. Sarah would be giving him shit. He couldn't say she didn't have good reason for it either; Brendon was walking on treacherous ground.

But Patrick did not need to know about this, did he?

Brendon shucked his pants, walked around the bed, turned on the bedside light, and slid under the covers. Pete turned around and looked at him with an absolutely broken expression on his face and Brendon felt his heart skip a beat.

"It just hurts so much." He started crying into his hands.

Keeping the distance between the two of them, Brendon rubbed at his arm. "Just let it all out, okay?"

Pete nodded vigorously into his hands and sobbed. It was the first time he let himself express his emotions over the break up, even if it was filtered through alcohol. "He hates me."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that!" Brendon tugged a smile on his lips.

Pete let out a loud scream that was muffled by his hands and shirt sleeves. Pete was biting his arm, eyes screwed shut, and just letting it all out. He was shouting and tears were falling down his face in thick globs. "I miss him," He breathed in a strangled gasp and moved his hands away from face. "I wanna die."

Brendon panicked and his hands flew to the sides of Pete's face. "No, no, no. No you don't." He wiped a tear from Pete's face with his thumb. "Pete, it's going to be okay. I promise it will be."

"Last time I felt like this I had Patrick. He was the one who convinced me to live now…" Pete trailed off into sobs, "Now he doesn't even want me anymore." He gripped Brendon's shoulders and shook him aggressively. "What do I have, Brendon? I have nothing!"

Without even telling himself to do so, Brendon found himself kissing Pete. Pete looked back at him, his brown eyes shining by the dim light. "Don't say that." Brendon tried to keep his voice stern, but it kept faltering. "Don't you dare even say that. You have Bronx, you have your band, your friends, your fans, me! People look up to you. I look up to you." Pete still looked shocked from the kiss, and Brendon could only hope that his speech was registering. "And Patrick still loves you. I promise you that he's not done with you. I don't know what you did, but it's not enough to break what you guys have. I promise."

Pete was keeping that look up, and it was starting to scare Brendon. "You're right," Pete started raising himself up. He placed an arm on the other side of Brendon and hovered over him. "You don't know what I did."

Brendon was afraid. His eyes were wide open and his lip was trembling. "Pete?"

"You don't know what I did," He repeated. "I convinced Patrick that his recovery means nothing to me. Nothing! He has proof that I liked him better sick." He leaned down closer to Brendon's face. "And I was unable to prove to him otherwise.

The younger man's Adam's apple bobbed as he looked up at Pete's face that was made more menacing by the dim light. "But that's not true."

"No it's not!" He shouted so loudly, Brendon felt his insides rumble with the sound. Pete looked down at Brendon with an unrecognized expression. He continued on with a softer tone "Even if he still loves me, he's done with me. He doesn't want me anymore. All I do is hurt him. He's done with me now."

Bringing his hands back to Pete's face, he spoke in desperate gasps. "Stop this. Please. You two have been through too much together for him to give up so easily."

"I miss him so much."

"I know."

Pete gripped a hand to his shirt directly over his heart. "I feel so lonely it hurts."

Brendon regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth. "I'm here for you."

Pete's expression softened. He slowly lowered down closer to Brendon, shivering furiously beneath him. He stopped for a few seconds just millimeters from his face. Brendon breathed staggered fearful breaths and Pete sent back slow drunk alcohol scented ones. When Pete leaned down and closed the distance between the two, the way that he kissed Brendon instilled a newfound sense of fear in the younger man. It wasn't the same friendly kiss they normally shared. Even when they had raunchier make out moments, the way Pete was kissing him now was different. It was slow and direct and coordinated. Brendon couldn't help but wonder, was this how he kissed Patrick?

Pushing him away, Brendon shook his head. "I… I think you should get some sleep. It's really late and I don't think you're thinking clearly. Things are always better once you have time to sleep on it."

"I can't go to sleep." Pete scooted in next to Brendon and placed his face next to Brendon's on his pillow. "I'm in far too much pain to sleep. I don't think I can…" He placed his hand on Brendon's bicep and rubbed gently.

"No," Brendon whispered.

Pete almost looked angry. "Why not?"

"Because you're still his, Pete."

"He doesn't want me anymore."

Brendon managed to shove him away. "Stop saying that." He ran his hands down his face. When he looked back up, Pete was still wearing the lustful look clouded over with the haze of the alcohol. "You're still a taken man. And Patrick is my friend. I can't do this to him."

"But you care about me, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, which is why I'm here for you."

Pete placed his hand on the dip in Brendon's waist. It was so much deeper than Patrick's. "You really want this, I can tell."

Brendon laughed nervously as he shook his head. "Nah, man. I’m not sure what you mean."                                                                                                                             

"Come on, Brendon! You think I really don't notice how you're always checking me out?" Brendon trembled beneath him; he couldn't deny it. But who wouldn't be checking out Pete Wentz? "And I'm not the only one who notices; Patrick was always worried that you'd try and fuck me behind his back. I know; he told me—a lot."

"I… I wouldn't do that." Brendon fought out weakly.

"I know you wouldn't." He moved his hand slowly up Brendon's side and weaved his fingers in his hair. "But Patrick and I aren't together now." His eyes flickered up. "He walked out on me." Brendon knew he wasn't putting up enough protest when Pete pulled him in and kissed him again.

He didn't fight enough when Pete rolled on top of him either. Brendon couldn't think of a time in his life that he felt guiltier than he did now, and he's done a lot of shit in his life. He brought his arms around Pete's waist as Pete gripped the sides of his face. They were both kissing with too much, passion, too much meaning. He could taste tinge of alcohol on Pete's tongue. He could smell it in his air. Brendon's done a lot of things that it would only make sense to regret, but he's never felt so down right dirty. He was sober, he could stop this. 'Just get up and leave' he told himself. 'He may be pissed now, but he'll thank you in the morning.'

Pete brought his hips down and grinded against him. Brendon didn't even notice how hard he was until now. He placed his hands on Pete's shoulders and pushed lightly. "No… we can't."

"Why not?" Pete smirked as he pushed his erection even harder to Brendon's, rewarding himself with a strangled cry from the younger man. "Are you saying you don't want it?"

Brendon looked away and blushed. Pete fucking Wentz. "It's not like I don't want it or anything…" He gasped as Pete brought his lips to his neck. "I just… we can't…"

Pete pulled away and looked at him. "As of right now, Patrick doesn't want me. You're not 'stealing me'. I want you." He ran a finger down the side of Brendon's face. "You might never get this chance again." Brendon whimpered, but he made no protest when Pete slipped his hands under his shirt and began to push it off him. "Lift your arms." Brendon complied. He only refuted the action internally. Pete got his shirt over his head and surveyed Brendon's lean toned body. He kissed Brendon again and made sure he was looking at his face when he said, "You know, you're not really my type."

"Want some limes to help rub the salt in?" Brendon caught Pete by surprise, which wasn't a difficult feat considering his drunken state, and flipped him onto his back. He'll be dammed if the guy he and the rest of the nation all have an insane crush on tells him that he's 'not his type'. He remembers Pete saying that Patrick could be aggressive so he gave him just that. Kissing gently at his jawline, he rubbed his hard-on into Pete's and gripped his collar.

Brendon pulled a bit roughly at the knot in Pete's tie until it loosened enough for him to throw it over his shoulder. He started undoing the buttons of Pete's dress shirt. He whispered into Pete's ear, "I've had the biggest crush on you for years."

"Join the club," Pete retorted with sass. He was a bit confused when he heard a laugh rather than receiving a full on slap across the face or a spank on the ass.

"Bitch, I founded the club." He awed over Pete's now exposed chest. He's seen the man naked before, but something about the atmosphere made this encounter different. He roamed his hands around Pete's torso. "You're so perfect." He looked up at Pete with wide eyes.

Pete squinted his eyes shut and shook his head. Brendon thought he looked like he was in pain. "Don't say that," When he opened his eyes again, they had the same drunken haze clouding over his eyes. "You're absolutely perfect."

Brendon blinked blankly, but he decided to ignore it. Pete was drunk anyway. Brendon wiggled himself between Pete's legs. He ran his fingers around the hem of Pete's boxers and looked up for any negative reactions. There seemed to be none, so he pulled them down with shaky hands. Pete's erection popped out raging hard and dripping with pre-come. Brendon took time to behold the sight. "So this is how you've kept Patrick at bay for so long." His stomach sank as soon as he said it. That dirty, guilty feeling crawled back over him as he remembered that he was messing with Patrick's property.

He felt like he was on autopilot as he started rubbing Pete. Who would he be to pass up this opportunity? When America's sweetheart begs you for a fuck, you don't just pass it up. However, that didn't stop the pang of guilt he received when he felt proud about getting a lustful moan out of Pete.

Leaning down, Brendon licked at the sensitive head of Pete's dick. Pete let out a loud sigh and Brendon took him into his mouth. Pete moaned loudly, but then he opened his eyes and squinted at the celling. "What the fuck?" Brendon looked up at him in confusion, but he didn't stop his actions. "How did you get so good at this?" Brendon pulled his mouth away slowly and lapped his tongue around the tip. He looked at Pete in confusion.

"Well you know… I sleep around a lot…" He didn't think it would be that much of a mystery. "Where do you store your lube?"

Pete didn't answer, but he sat up and reached into the nightstand drawer. Holding the bottle in one hand, he pointed to Brendon's boxers with the other. "Shuck 'em."

Brendon gave him a salute before following through with the action. "Aye, aye captain!" Brendon wiggled out of his underpants and Pete kicked his off the rest of the way down his legs. Brendon made his way onto his back with is legs bent and spread apart. Pete crawled between them. Pete rubbed a lube covered finger to Brendon's opening and pushed in. Brendon let out a wonton moan, vocalizing his pleasure with no holds. Pete didn't show it very much on his face, but he was mildly confused at the amount of noise.

He started thrusting two fingers into Brendon and the younger man was practically bouncing under his touch. Brendon was rambunctious in bed; a hard contrast to Patrick's endearingly cute, quiet, yet aggressive demeanor in bed. Brendon was… well… he was a slut. But that was no secret.

The guilt was boiling at full heat in Brendon's stomach, but at this point he couldn't be certain if it was purely guilt or pleasure. Brendon's mind came to a decision when Pete started thrusting a third finger into him. It was pleasurable and Brendon wouldn't let himself miss out on enjoying the fact that he was coming undone by the fingers of Pete Wentz because of some guilt over… he didn't even know anymore.

Sighing, he looked up at Pete. He looked better than the images in his head that Brendon used to masturbate to. He looked concentrated, despite the alcohol. He looked incredibly handsome and chiseled to perfection. The contrast of the blond on his head to his tanned body made him look like a work of art, which he was in Brendon's book.

Then Pete brushed over his prostate and any doubts or guilt he had melted away as he screamed out Pete's name. Pete was pulling out his fingers and brushing against it with each thrust and Brendon didn't know what to do with himself

"Fuck me! Please!" He half screamed, half gasped out. "I want you! Fuck Pete. I dreamed about this for so long."

Pete pulled his fingers out slowly. He looked at Brendon, a panting mess below him, for a few moments before speaking. "Hands and knees."

Brendon was only a little bit upset. He wanted to see Pete's face, but fuck. He couldn't care too much at this point. He waited in that position for a while, shaking with fear and excitement as he listened to Pete preparing himself behind him. Pete leaned over him, kissing his ear gently as he rubbed his cock against Brendon's hole. Brendon moaned and breathed out a "fuck" at the sensation.

Pete was rubbing one of his hands gently around his body in an odd pattern. It was like he was careful avoiding touching certain areas. "Do you really want this?" Pete breathed into his ear.

He was mildly pissed. Why the fuck would Pete be asking him that. Hell yes he wants this; he's been wanting this in secret for years. And it wasn't like he was going to say no with Pete rubbing his dick on him like that. "Fuck!" Brendon gasped out. "Yes! Fuck yes I want this Pete. I've wanted you for so long."

If Brendon was paying more attention, he would've felt Pete hesitate over him like he was expecting a different reaction. But he laughed lightly into Brendon's ear before straightening himself. Pete aligned himself with Brendon's hole and pushed in slowly. He grunted quietly at the feeling of the tightness around him as Brendon cried out—he had no filter when it came to expressing his pleasure. Pete stilled himself for a few moments once he got his entire length inside, giving time for Brendon to adjust.

"You're way bigger than I imagined." Brendon managed to get out. He had to lower himself to his elbows. He took in a few deep breaths. It didn't take too long for Brendon to get antsy. He whined and started pushing himself against Pete's hips.

Pete laughed and leaned over him again. "You are so thirsty." He laughed by his ear.

"You don't even know the half of it." Brendon tried to say it in as light of a tone as he could, but it wasn't easy to joke around like that as he was full of dick. He was in pure bliss. Pete was laying over his back, nibbling gently at his ear as he was pounding into him from behind. Brendon's face flushed as he was reduced to incoherent moans beneath Pete's touch. Pete clawed gently at his back, and Brendon didn't think much of how odd of an action it was. Most guys who fucked him doggy style were all over his chest and abs, occasionally teasing at his nipples. But Pete's unexpected touch with his nails digging gently into his skin was very pleasant.

He sighed in content. "I can't believe I'm not dreaming." Pete let go of his ear and started kissing at his neck. As much as Brendon loved the feeling, he was praying internally that there wouldn't be any marks there. He figured he would just get Sarah to cover it with makeup if any did appear.

Any thoughts Brendon might have had about guilt, his wife, or Patrick melted away when Pete's dick brushed against his prostate. He was completely lost in the moment, unable to form a steady string of thoughts as the pleasure coursed from his lower half to fill his body with delight. Pete continued to ram into that same spot, sending him screaming. Pete's name continued to leap out of his mouth

Pete drew his hand to his hair and turned Brendon's head so he could lean down more and apply sloppy drunken kisses to his mouth. Pete's soft fingers massaging gently at his scalp combined with his hard thrusts to his prostate were quickly pushing him to his limit.

Brendon looked into Pete's eyes as he tried to remain lucid. Pete had his eyes on him, but he wasn't really looking at him. His eyes were glazed over and Brendon didn't want his morals to get in the way of this moment.

Pete started rubbing at his thigh, and Brendon didn't give himself an opportunity to wonder about how strange the action was. Pete drew his hand away quickly, like he didn't like the touch, and placed it to rest on Brendon's hip. He whispered into Brendon's ear, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Fuck Pete." Brendon was out of his wits. "I'm enjoying you! You! I've wanted this for as long as I can remember!" Pete slowed down the tempo of his thrusts to an agonizing slow grind and Brendon couldn't help but scream again.

"Mm, that's not what I asked." He pressed his fingers down tighter on Brendon's hip and Brendon jerked his head as tears formed at the corner of his eyes. "I asked you if you were enjoying yourself." He brushed his teeth on Brendon's neck. "Do you feel good with yourself?"

Brendon was too consumed by pleasure to put too much thought into whatever Pete was saying. The man was far past drunk anyway. He could say whatever deep psychological type shit he wanted. But Brendon did know he was feeling good and nothing was getting in the way of that. "Yes! I am actually very pleased with myself right now. I'd even say I was in heaven." Brendon closed his eyes and limited himself to think only of the sweet movement of Pete's body within his. But he decided it might be fun to play whatever game Pete was dealing out, so he asked, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Pete didn't answer for a while. He went on moving within Brendon and kissing at his neck like he didn't hear the question. It was more than a few minutes later when he whispered, "I don't feel very good about myself," and he picked up his pace. He combed his fingers through Brendon's hair. "I feel really bad about myself but I don't know why."

Tilting his head back, Brendon surprised Pete with a kiss, pulling him out of his thoughts. He pulled a cocky smile. "Shut up." Pete stiffed a smile back at him. "This is a good fuck," Brendon laughed out, "Enjoy it."

Pete wrapped his arms underneath Brendon's and gripped at his shoulders. He began nailing into Brendon's body without holds. Brendon couldn't support himself on his arms and dropped to his chest as he blubbered out lustful nonsense. He was starting to think he couldn't hold on any longer when Pete began rubbing at his dick. Brendon was biting hard at his lip as his eyes squeezed shut. "Pete! I'm coming!" Brendon shouted out a long scream as he spilled onto the bed.

He spent the next few moments in a blissful haze. Pete was still pushing into him, but his pace was wild and erratic so Brendon knew he was close. Brendon couldn't force himself to concentrate on anything through his post orgasm haze. The feeling of Pete moving within his oversensitive insides were the only thing that could occupy his mind. He let out tiny little cries in time with Pete's thrusts as he squeezed himself tighter.

Breathing heavily into Brendon's neck, Pete tightened his grip on Brendon as he thrusted into him. When he finally came, he let out nothing louder than a quiet sigh by Brendon's ear as he collapsed on Brendon's back. He mumbled something in his drunken, sated, half-asleep state that Brendon didn't quite catch. Brendon turned his head to look at Pete's wiped-out face and smiled brightly. Then he finally caught on to what Pete was saying.

"Patrick…" He mumbled absent mindedly.

It felt like ice had been injected into Brendon's veins. He squinted his eyes and buried his face into the sheets. He pounded his hands on the mattress below him and cried. Pete had fallen asleep over him and he had to army crawl his way out from under him. The feeling of Pete's dick slipping out of him and the dribble of come falling out of his hole caused goose bumps to surface around his skin. He was choking on his tears as he crawled his way out of bed. He seated himself on the carpet and fished through his pants pocket for his phone. He wiped some tears off his face with his forearm as he shakily searched for Sarah in his contacts. His wet hands were making poor traction on the touchscreen. He threw the phone on the ground next to him as he ran his hands down his face and sobbed.

He gasped when he heard Pete speak again.

"No…Patrick… I love you." He mumbled in his sleep.

Brendon clamped a hand to his mouth as he felt his stomach turn. He grabbed his phone and ran to the bathroom with his hand pressed firmly to his mouth. He locked the door behind him before dropping to his knees and expelling the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He hollered loudly as the tears flowed down his face. He sank all the way down on the cold floor and pulled his knees to his chest. He buried his head in his arms as he cried. Brendon's never felt worse about himself in his life.

All the people who don't particularly agree with his and Sarah's lifestyle, all the shit they say about him being nothing but a whore, a slut, it was all true. Brendon was nothing but a skank, and not in the ironic joking way that he wore like a title. He was nothing more than the cock loving, immoral bastard people accused him of being. He couldn't even keep his hands off of his best friend's mate. And he idolized Pete and Patrick's relationship. He was a homewrecker and a shitty excuse for a friend—for a human being even. He didn't even want to think of how Patrick would ever begin to forgive him, because he knew there was no way he could ever forgive himself.

He reached for his phone and tried his best to steady his hands as he called his wife's number. He brought his phone to his ear. Sarah picked up on the second ring.

"Honey no," Sarah's disappointed voice shot straight to Brendon's heart. "Tell me you didn't," She pleaded. Even his own wife knew sleeping with Pete wasn't above him. He only cried louder in response. Brendon fought to pull out some words to explain himself, but he couldn’t get anything through his hard sobs. His wife spoke soothing words into the speaker.

"It will be okay. Give it some time. It's going to be really tough, but we'll get through this."

"No…" He blubbered into the phone. "I'm coming home."

"You can't do that dear," Sarah said quietly.

"Why not? He'll think that it's just a dream. He's wasted as fuck anyway." Brendon angrily wiped the tears off his face.

"Because, will you be able to live with yourself?"

"I'm thinking 'yes', Sarah. It really doesn't look like a bad idea right now."

"'Right now' maybe. Years down the road, you'll always have this secret buried deep inside you. It will eat you alive. Stay with him." She took a deep breath. "And you know what you have to do."

Brendon paled and his eyes opened wide in fear. "No!" He shouted.

"Yes, Brendon." His wife said with a firm voice. "Yes, you have to tell him."

"No! I can't!" Brendon squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heel of his palm into his temple. "I can't tell Patrick. He'll boil me alive."

"And if you don't tell him, you'll boil yourself alive. He deserves to know."

Brendon stomped his foot on the floor and screeched. "Okay." He took a sharp inhale. "I've got to go, sweetie."

"I know you do. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Bye-bye, honey." She whispered.

"Bye." Brendon tapped the 'end' button on his screen and sighed. He buried his head in his knees again for a few moments. Then he let out another scream.

Shit.

How did he let himself get neck deep in this shit? He picked himself off the cold tile floor and tiptoed to the door. He peeked around the corner and saw Pete had managed to make his way underneath the blankets. Brendon blew out a puff of air and dragged a hand down his face. He stepped to the bed and shimmied his way near Pete's sleeping body.

"Patrick?" Pete looked at him with dazed eyes. "You're back?"

Brendon patted Pete's upper arm and gave a quick grip. "Yeah, I'm here."

Pete smiled at him. "Good." He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Brendon turned on his back and looked at the ceiling as tears streamed down his face. He sniffled and blinked slowly. He looked at the shadows on the ceiling for what must have been hours until he was overtaken by the darkness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh! What a cliff hanger!! Whatever will happen to our beloved couple!? Spoiler alert: a lot! Thank you so much for reading, and I'm sorry it's so short! Tell me what you think so far! And I love con crit, it's how we improve so any of that is appreciated too! <3
> 
> [My blog](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/) |[contact me](mailto:therealtrashqueen@gmail.com?Subject=Hey%20I%20found%20you%20on%20AO3) |[get a free fic](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/post/144081720015/summer-of-sin-event-get-a-free-fic-this-summer)


	2. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon and Pete must deal with the aftermath of the affair. Joe enters the story as he and Patrick work on the band's charity project and order new guitars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow hey look! It's chapter two!! I'm making great time with the fic. I'm just a tad behind schedule, but I'm very glad with the work so far! And look! I'm even awake enough to proofread this haha. I'm always so sleep when I post that I don't proofread and typos are abundant. But I did check this one. No promises though! ^^;
> 
> I am so sorry these chapters are so short. This was the most sensible way to cut them! I might upload two chapters tomorrow (if I keep up with schedule!!) because chapter 3 (or 4 I can't remember) is short as fuuuuuck. Like less than 4k short.
> 
> AO3 KEEPS DELETING MY NOTES AND I DON'T WANT TO TYPE IT AGAIN. But I love you all so much and your comments really motivate me to keep working! Thank you for reading and supporting this story! Don't forget to check out my blog for updates!
> 
> I love you and enjoy the story! <3

The blaring sun gave Brendon a rude awakening. He threw his arm over his face and groaned. It took him a while to adjust to actually being awake before he turned around to check the clock. It was past ten. Shit, he must have been emotionally exhausted the night before. Pete was snoring lightly beside him. He debated a little bit before deciding to wake Pete up. He gave him a soft shake and slapped him on the back a few times before Pete made some upset sounds of waking.

"Hey, time to wake up buddy." Brendon spoke cautiously.

"Huh… what?" Pete forced his eyes open. "P-Patrick?" Pete looked at him with squinted eyes. "Brendon?"

Brendon gave him a sheepish smile. "Yeah… That's me."

Pete just looked at him with a very confused look on his face. "Why… why are you…?" He blinked in confusion for a few seconds at Brendon's embarrassed smile. His expression quickly jumped to shock. He paled. "No… we didn't?" He gave a pleading look. "Tell me we didn't. Did we?"

He only laughed nervously and shrugged. "Yeah… we did."

Pete threw his arms and legs down on the bed in a fit of anger. "Fuck!" He shouted and grabbed his head. "Fuck!" He whined quietly as he waited for his migraine to calm down a bit. "This," He aggressively gestured over the two of them, "This never gets out. It never happened. Capisce?"

Brendon bit at his lip. "But—"

"No buts!" He shoved a finger in Brendon's face. "Unless of course, you've got your eyes on a new record label."

"What?" Brendon jumped up to a sitting position. "You can't do that!"

"Wanna bet?" He jumped out of bed and grabbed his head at the movement-induced pain. "There's only two of you. It won't be that hard to come up with a break up story." He started shaking his pillow out of the case. "If Patrick finds out about this, our asses are fried." He grabbed his head again and groaned loudly. "Help me!"

Brendon jumped out of bed and started assisting Pete with removing the sheets from the mattress and pillows. He helped arrange the blankets into a small ball on the floor when Pete turned to the bathroom.

"I'll be in the shower."

"Pete, wait." Brendon ran up to him and flushed at Pete's annoyed face.

"What?"

He rubbed at his shoulder. He couldn't muster up the courage to look Pete in the face. "Um, don't you think it would actually be better to tell Patrick about all of this?"

Pete looked genuinely confused. "If we don't tell him, he'll never find out about it. And we can act like it never happened."

That stung a little. "You say that now but…" He managed to look Pete straight in the face. "You love Patrick don't you?" Pete didn't react. "I know you two will get back together. And it will be on your conscience forever, weighing you down. You won't ever be able to look at him honestly again." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard before looking down at Pete again. "You should—we should tell him."

He shifted his weight between his feet and looked like he was contemplating the idea. Pete held his head in one of his hands and hit the frame of the bathroom door with the other. "Fuck, Brendon." He banged his head on the doorframe and held it there as he brought his hands tightly over his ears. "Fuck. No. He can't find out about this. I’m already on shaky grounds with him. This will wreck us."

Brendon started burning with anger. "No, Pete! You did this! Own up to it!"

"It was a mistake! I was drunk. And you couldn't resist." Pete eyed him angrily. "You fucking skank!"

"Fuck you, Pete!" Brendon stomped his foot on the ground as tears spilled from his eyes. "Fuck you! We're friends! Is that what you think of me?"

"Why the hell are you acting like this? You knew this would happen! Why did you wait until Patrick and I were having problems to do this? How long have you been waiting to get me shit-faced drunk to have sex with me?"

"Don't act like it's not your fault too!" Brendon screeched out loud enough to hurt his throat.

"Are you trying to steal me away from Patrick? Because I don't want you."

He hit the nail straight into Brendon's heart. No, he didn't want Pete like that, he'd never want to hurt Patrick. But he would be lying if he said he didn't fantasize about a one night stand with the man. Brendon began furiously wiping the tears off his face. "You egotistical bitch!"

Pete laughed bitterly. "And I thought you really loved Sarah."

Brendon had finally had enough at that point. His voice cracked with the power of his scream as he shouted, "I do love her! I love her and you can't bring her into this!"

"No you don't! Because if you loved her, then you'd know what love is and you wouldn't fuck around with Patrick's feelings like that."

Brendon made a grab at him, but Pete swung around the corner and slammed the door shut. Brendon banged at the door weakly. "Shut up," he cried as he slid down the door to the ground. "I love her." He continued to cry audibly on the floor, tucked into a ball. "I do love her."

He stayed on the floor until he was able to calm himself down and stop crying. The sound of the shower could be heard going off in the distance. Brendon quickly dressed himself and decided he would shower at home. He called his driver to bring a car for him.

As Brendon was heading downstairs to wait for his ride, he noticed the door to Pete's home office was cracked open. This was the room he didn't ever go in; partly because it didn't interest him too much, but also because he felt like it could be some form of illegal violation on his contract. He decided things between himself and Pete couldn't get much worse and decided to snoop around. He stepped inside the room, and his jaw dropped at the disaster in front of him.

It was worse than he imagined when Pete explained it to him. The place was in ruins. There were dents in the walls, broken glass on the floor, paper laced like a thick rug on the ground, and a broken desk laid on its side. This was only brushing the surface. It really did look like a natural disaster took place here. Brendon couldn't believe the adorable, cavity inducing sweet Patrick Stump created this mess. 'Mess' being a complete understatement. Patrick was the type of guy who brought a spider outside to safety when everyone else was screaming at him to kill it. Brendon took a step backwards and tripped over an office chair laying on the floor. The place looked like a war zone, or like an abandoned workplace in Chernobyl. He could tell that Pete didn't make any efforts to clean up. Brendon didn't think he would be doing so any time soon either. None of the lights were on, so Brendon was viewing the scene through the dim lights that seeped in through the half drawn curtains. He did notice, however, there was a second source of light.

Although it was laying on the floor on its side, Pete's computer monitor was displaying the company screensaver. Something inside Brendon told him the answer to whatever made Patrick flip out like this was hiding in that computer. Brendon made his way to his stomach and pushed himself on his feet. He turned to make his way to the monitor.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't come in here."

Brendon's hands flew to his mouth as he stifled a scream. He turned around and saw Pete standing in the doorway, his demeanor looking completely changed from earlier. Pete stood with one hand holding an icepack to his head and his other falling loosely at his side. He was wearing a large Fall Out Boy t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked aged and tired and defenseless. Brendon thought he looked like he was about to cry.

"Please." Pete stepped to the side and opened the door wider as he gestured out of the room.

Brendon was shocked. He didn't know what to say, so he whispered a quick "sorry" as he hustled out.

Pete looked into the room for a few moments before letting out a sigh and closing the door.

"That's not healthy, Pete." Pete turned around slowly and saw Brendon still standing behind him in the hallway. The younger man looked embarrassed and ashamed as he rocked on his feet.

"Yeah," Pete let his head fall. "I know."

An awkward silence passed over the two of them.

"I'm sorry," Pete started, "About what I said earlier. There's a lot I need to own up to." He moved the icepack to his neck and looked at Brendon. "And I don't want things to be weird between us. But we can't tell Patrick."

"Pete—"

"No!" Pete didn't yell it the same way he did earlier. It was quiet but firm. He had made up his mind and was too exhausted to fight about it. "No, okay? You saw what he did in there. And if he knows I broke whatever little trust in me he has left, he'll be done with me for good." Pete's eyes shied away to the wall. "I need him."

"You love him, so be honest with him. It's gonna eat you alive."

Pete jerked his head away even more, but Brendon knew he was crying. Pete inhaled sharply. "I can't." He sobbed quietly. "I hate myself!" Pete shouted, throwing his arm against the wall behind him. "I hate myself so much."

"It’s already starting," Brendon tried. "Get it off your chest."

Pete looked at him with red eyes and wet cheeks. "What if he leaves me?"

Brendon pulled a sad smile. "I have a song about that."

He grimaced as he laughed. "I don't want your stupid gospel."

Brendon's phone vibrated in his pocket. "Hey I have to go now. We'll talk, okay?"

"Yeah." Pete lowered his icepack. "Brendon?"

Already starting on the steps, Brendon turned back around to respond, "Yeah?"

"Don't tell him. Please."

He paused for a few moments. "Will you really drop Panic! if I do?"

Pete raised his icepack to his head again. He seemed deep in thought as he let his eyes flutter shut. "Yes," He answered resolutely.

Brendon nodded his head. "Okay." He trotted down the steps and out the door to his car.

\--

Patrick couldn't put together a coherent string of thoughts as he ran down the steps of Pete's house. He couldn't breathe and that was occupying most of his thoughts. He felt slightly stupid for not taking the inhaler in Pete's desk, but he had too much pride to take anything from Pete. He threw himself into his car and cried.

All these years, he thought Pete loved him. He thought Pete had been by his side through each relapse and every attempt at recovery. But it was just a lie. Patrick pressed his head into the steering wheel. He wondered if Pete would have even brought up the idea of the two of them dating had he looked the same back then as he did in 2011.

But he couldn't breathe right now, and breathing is important. Wheezing heavily, Patrick twisted into his back seat and pulled out his backpack. He dug through it, retrieved his inhaler, and took two puffs from it. He waited until the sound of his wheezing died down as his lungs finally allowed oxygen in his system before he drove back home.

He didn't listen to the radio or any of his own music because he knew that any song he put on would remind him of Pete. The last thing he wanted was to get too emotional while driving and end up in a wreck. The second he got home, he ran to his room, threw his glasses off, and flopped down face first on the bed. He kicked his shoes off and pulled a pillow to his face so he could ugly cry into it with full force. Patrick ugly cried with all the bells and whistles. The pillow absorbed his gasping screams, snot, tears, and hid his contorted face. Nobody would ever see him like this.

When Patrick finally got his cry to ease down enough for him to roll on to his back. Still sniffling and blubbering, Patrick decided to do what he always does when he finds himself in situations like this. He dug through his pocked and pulled his phone out. He called the first number on his ICE contacts so he could avoid the task of having to unlock his phone. He put his phone on speaker and grabbed the pillow again. It picked up on the second ring.

"Mommy," Patrick pulled his face away from his pillow so his voice wasn't muffled.

Patricia Stumph already had an image of what her son looked like on the other end. "Oh honey," She cooed into the phone, "What's going on?"

"Pete and I had a fight," he whimpered. Patrick cried out loudly. "Mom, I'm so upset!"

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked soothingly.

"I don't know…" He paused to sniffle. "Not really. Mom, Pete isn't supporting my recovery. He likes me better sick." Patrick grabbed at his chest and rolled on the bed as he cried.

"I'm not too sure I believe that. I've seen Pete take care of you; I feel like you're safe under his care. Do you really think that?" There was a short silence. "So, are you two…?"

"I don't know!" Patrick forced the words out through his violent sobs. "I don't know if he still wants me."

"Why wouldn't he want you, dear? Pete loves you very much."

Patrick threw himself into a sitting position. He grabbed a pillow to his chest. "Because I was so terrible." Patrick took a break to hyperventilate as he cried. "I wrecked his house really bad. I almost killed him with a mug. I knocked his desk over, and I ripped his lyric book." Patrick let out a little whiny cry. "He hates me, mom."

Patricia clicked her tongue. "I'm sure he'll understand. You were just really emotional. Why don't you talk to him about it?"

He let out a wail and buried his head into the pillow before removing it and speaking again. "Because I don't want to see him! I don't want to see Pete ever again!"

"But, sweetie, what about your band?"

"I don't know, mom. I love the band… I'm just…"

"You're just angry and emotional. You need a little bit of time to yourself, but you have to talk about it eventually."

Patrick wiped the tears off his face with the sleeve of his cardigan. He took a few calming breaths. "Okay, mom. I'll do that."

"Do you want to come home? I'll make your favorite: chocolate chip pancakes!" Patrick could hear the smile in his mom's voice. If she could baby all her children again whenever they were feeling down, all her dreams would come true.

"No!" Patrick shouted a little too loudly and a little too quickly. The last thing he wanted was for his mom to fatten him up. He couldn't imagine eating anything—let alone his mother's calorie laden cooking—right now. "I just need some time to myself right now." He exhaled heavily and wiped his face. "I love you, mom. You always know what to say."

She laughed lightly. "Well you know what they all say—mother knows best. And I know it will all work itself out, sweetie. It'll take some time, but you and Pete will be fine. The two of you will be stronger than ever."

"Okay, mom." He forced a smile. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart."

Patrick smiled earnestly. "Bye."

"Bye. And don't forget to visit!"

He chuckled at that while hearing the sounds of the call being disconnected. He flopped down on his back. Patrick laid there, losing himself in his thoughts, until he heard a notification go off on his phone. It was a text from Joe.

_Don't forget to go to bed early. We have circulation tomorrow._

Patrick slapped his hand on his face. Circulation came once or twice a year. He, Joe, and Pete would meet up and sell their old guitars—or basses for Pete's sake—and donate the money to charity. Then the three of them would then lust over the new issue of _Strings Limited_ as they ordered their new weapons. It was a great team bonding event and sometimes Andy would come by to make jokes or sell a few things. However, Patrick would enjoy it more if it didn't have to start around nine in the morning. He hates waking up early, but it normally did take a while for the whole circulation process. It took an exceptionally long time if they didn't plan which guitars they were donating.

_I won't forget. But remember you're dealing with Bitchrick until noon._

He tried to fall asleep like that. He didn't want to deal with taking off his clothes, brushing his teeth, or anything else really. He doesn't know when it happened, but Patrick spent hours tossing and turning, crying himself to sleep until he finally ended up asleep.

The next morning, Patrick awoke with a jolt. He was in a cold sweat. He couldn't remember much, but he had awoken from a horrifying dream. He only remembers himself being on fire and Pete was goofing around rather than helping him. He took a few minutes to calm down and clarify to himself that it was only a dream. Patrick rolled out of bed, stripping his clothes off as he walked to the bathroom. He threw himself into the shower and turned it to the hottest setting. The water was scalding his skin, but he ignored the pain. It would be red for a while, but he didn't care too much.

As he was reaching for the towel on the rack, Patrick caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. He almost cried. He was red and blotchy and full of rolls. He knows Pete would've wasted no time covering up the mirror for him. He vividly remembered the last time Pete did it. Patrick told him that he was becoming incredibly uncomfortable with all the mirrors in his house showcasing his flaws. Pete got up with a stern look on his face and just left. Patrick sat confused until Pete came back an hour or so later with a shopping bag packed with a large roll of paper and duct tape. He didn't say anything as he removed any detachable mirrors and worked on covering up any that were permanently mounted on the walls. He even remembers when Pete threw him a little party with the band when the paper came down and the decorative mirrors were placed back up.

Patrick ducked out of the room with his towel wrapped around his body. He looked at the clock on his bedroom wall. It was only seven in the morning. He didn't deserve to be up this early. Patrick tripped over his fedora and kicked it. He had a million more where that came from anyway. But Patrick didn't put on a fedora today. He put on a hoodie Pete bought him back in 2007. It was a little loose on him then, so it fell off his frame now. He liked wearing clothes from that time because when they were loose on him, he knew he wasn't as fat as his head told him he was. He put on some house shorts and stupid socks before heading off to a different room.

This was a guest room that was really never used. It was only used if his siblings or parents were visiting. He opened the closet in there and smiled at the contents inside. He picked up a box that had writing all over it. It said things like "In case of emergency", "Do not touch", and "Classified content". He carried the box to his living room. It was a little heavy, but it was worth it. He stood in the kitchen impatiently as he warmed up some tea. Patrick poured the tea through the loose tea filled filter into his teapot. He carried a handmade mug in one hand and his teapot in the other as he walked back into the living room and placed the objects down on the coffee table.

Patrick was almost giddy when he opened the box. It was filled with authentic vintage VHSs of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon. He loaded the first tape into his player and sat down crisscross-applesauce as he let his problems fade away, sitting and sipping tea to hours of TMNT.

He was lost in the episode where Shredder switched bodies with Michelangelo when his phone started ringing. It was past nine thirty. He read the caller ID.

"Joe?"

"Hey Patrick!" Joe sounded like he was busy on the other end. "Sorry I'm running late, I'm on my way to the car. Ruby was sick and I couldn't just leave her."

"Ew."

"'Ew' is right my friend. She was blowing chunks like a fire hydrant. I told the woman not to shake her like that! Contents are under high pressure."

"Okay, okay. That's enough. I get the idea. Just be here as soon as you can, alright?"

Joe laughed. "Sure thing. Hey 'Trick. You feeling okay?"

Patrick froze. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you sound a little down. And I thought this was going to be a wake-up call to your sleepy ass. Nothing gets The Great Stump out of bed early."

"It's… it's nothing. I guess it's this solstice or something…"

Joe started humming the Jeopardy theme song. "Not hanging up."

"Alright fine. I…" Patrick felt his voice wavering. "Pete and I got in a fight. It was really bad."

Joe breathed heavily on the other end. "I'm sorry dude. I'll be over soon okay. I take it Pete's not coming today, is he?"

"Doubt it."

"See you then."

"Bye."

Patrick ended the call. He looked at the screen briefly before yelling and winging his phone across the room. It had a survivor jacket so he wasn't too worried. But he was pissed. Patrick folded his arms over the coffee table and buried his head in them as he cried. He gave himself a couple of minutes before he angrily wiped the tears off his face. He had spent too much time crying and it wasn't helping anything. He gulped down a cup of tea that was probably way too hot and forced his attention back to his favorite cartoon. It started out as a forced attempt, but Patrick was getting back into his trance when the doorbell rang.

He sprang to the door and opened it to find Joe standing in the doorway with wide arms.

Patrick pursed his lips for a second before he flew into Joe's open arms. He wrapped his arms around Joe and buried his face in his abdomen. Joe didn't say anything as he rubbed his back. Patrick eventually pulled away and walked back to the living room, rubbing at his eyes. Joe followed him inside and closed the door.

"Pete's an ass. I've wanted to say that for so long. Can I say it?"

Patrick laughed as he turned around. "You say that all the time. But yes, he is."

"But Pete doesn't have this issue of _Strings Limited_!" Joe pulled the magazine out and the two of them squealed. Joe dropped himself in front of the coffee table. "Cool! TMNT!" Joe smiled at the old cartoon playing on the TV in front of him.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Nah. Just sit down, man." He patted the spot next to him. "I've been dying to get a look at this issue."

Patrick sat down and smiled up at Joe. "I'm dying for every issue." He poured another cup of tea for himself as Joe flipped the magazine open. Joe pulled a notepad and pen out of his pocket.

"Let the ordering begin!" The two of them smiled as they fawned over the images of guitars. Some of the 'photoshoots' were ridiculous. Guitars were posed by palm trees at the beach, on cars at the speedway, sitting on a front porch swing, and even in the middle of a dance circle at a club.

"Aw man! New straps!" Joe wrote down the ID number for the custom embroidered guitar straps. "You can pick the font, color, and a design on this one. Hell yeah!"

"Rad! Pete told me that he needed a new—" Patrick stopped himself. He looked down in shame. Why couldn't he get Pete off his mind?

Joe ruffled his hair. "S'okay little guy."

"I'm not little; you're just a giant." He pouted

He gave Patrick a small chuckle. "I'm a giant Fall Out Boy member, but I am not a giant at all." He drew his attention back to the magazine. "I think I want mine to say 'Jammin' Joe' on it."

Patrick laughed. "That sounds really stupid."

"So it's good? I should go with it?"

Patrick shook his head and laughed as he flipped the page. "Whoa, man! No way!" Joe looked up from his writing to what Patrick was pointing at. "Galaxy print guitars, Joe! Galaxy print! We have to get these!"

Joe shrugged. "Eh, not really my style. I like red. Can we get a Saturn print or something happening in mainstream media?"

"I want this in acoustic! It's so awesome!"

"Why don't you get the whole acoustic set? It comes with the bass for a discount." He said plainly as he waited for Patrick's reaction.

Patrick's face lit up. "That's a great idea! Pete and I can match and—you bitch!" He shoved Joe.

"So you don't completely hate the guy, that's good. This is salvageable then." He laughed.

"I… I!" Patrick's face heated up. "No… I don't hate him."

Joe smiled in the lazy smug way he enjoys doing when he knows he's right.

Patrick put his oversized hoodie- ~~~~covered hands to his burning cheeks. He turned his head away as he a spoke. "Write down the order for the acoustic set."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Joe wrote down the order. Patrick appreciated how he didn't ask what caused the fight.

They finished the magazine. They didn't order many more guitars for themselves, but they did order a few plain acoustics to sign and sell for charity as well as a few hundred customized guitar picks to give out. Joe followed Patrick into his guitar room to help him tag the guitars to auction since it slipped his mind to do so before hand. Patrick was grateful for Joe's even temperament. It took crazy shit to get this man upset. However, it had a weird effect. The band often went out of their way to avoid upsetting Joe for that very reason. They always felt bad making him upset because he never reprimanded them. Patrick felt like he was abusing Joe's disposition by making him help out.

"I'm so sorry." Patrick said as he removed an old electric from its rack.

Joe rolled his eyes as he placed a tag on it. "Yeah, because I didn't hear you the first ninety times.'

Patrick pulled a green electric guitar off the rack. "Do I want to sell this one?"

Joe looked at it briefly and crinkled his nose. "Yeah. When it comes to electric, you really only play the Stump-o-matic. And the fact that you're asking about it says it all. Plus, it's green."

"Yeah," Patrick took a better look at it. "You're probably right."

"I am right. Now hand it over." Joe tagged the guitar. "This is probably enough." He stood up and looked at the pile of seven or so guitars. "Don't forget to apply a sealant spray after you sign these." He ran a hand through his hair. "And don't forget to use the spray outside." Joe walked over and clapped his hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Sorry Pete had to miss out on this one."

"It's whatever. He'll just have to deal with missing the new collections." Patrick pulled a tough smile.

"I can take you out to lunch if you want. I'm so jealous that you live this close to Chipotle! I love Chipotle!"

Patrick forced out a laugh. "I know you do. And as much as I love riding in your car, I'll have to pass."

Joe gave him the lazy yet stern look that only he could master. "Come on, Patrick. I've been here since ten. It's past lunch time now and I know you didn't eat breakfast."

"I already have plans."

Joe blew a raspberry. "Yeah, right. With whom, may I ask?"

Patrick put his hands on his hips and started stuttering while attempting to look confident. Joe was about to pull him out by the arm when they heard the doorbell ring. "And there are my plans now." Patrick walked around him with a smug look on his face, but on the inside, he was screaming.

He walked over to the door with Joe in tow. Patrick opened the door with shaky hands. Brendon stood in the doorway looking vaguely frazzled. His clothes looked thrown on, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he hadn't slept for a few weeks. He had a dazed wide eye expression on his face as well.

"Brendon!" Patrick held his arms out with a twitchy smile on his face as he feigned that he expected Brendon all along. He was praying that Brendon was receiving his telepathic message.

"Hey," Brendon said waving his hand sheepishly.

Patrick pulled him inside with a strong grip on his upper arm. "I'm so glad you remembered our plans!" Brendon slowly nodded his head at Patrick's aggressive smile.

Joe crinkled his nose. He knew something was going on here, but he didn't want to get wrapped up in drama that he didn't belong in. Besides, he was hungry. "Anybody want a ride to Chipotle?"

"No," Brendon shook his head. He still had the deer in headlights look in his eyes.

"Okay then." Joe shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped out. "I am out."

"Bye-bye Joe!" Patrick waved to him.

Joe waved as he walked off to his car. Patrick closed the door and turned back around to Brendon. He looked like he's seen a ghost.

Patrick looked around awkwardly. "Is everything okay…?"

Brendon seemed to snap himself out of it. He ran a hand down his face. "Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry."

"Okay." Patrick nodded slowly. He picked his tea set off the coffee table and led Brendon into the dining room and kitchen area. Brendon took a seat as Patrick headed over to the stove. "Do you want tea or something?" Patrick called out.

"Sure. Thanks."

Patrick returned with two mugs of steaming tea and sat next to Brendon at the long dining table. "What's going on? You look like a mess."

Brendon gave him an ironic smile. "Appreciated." He let out a shaky breath and held the mug to his lips. The burning sensation the mug transferred on his hands was somehow soothing to him. "Patrick," he placed the cup back down. Patrick was smiling at him in an adorably confused way. "I know about you and Pete."

"Fuck!" Patrick spilled some of his hot drink on himself. He started grabbing napkins and pressing them to his burned skin. "Shit. Who told you?"

Brendon gulped. He looked at Patrick firmly. "Pete did."

Patrick looked at him painfully. His mouth fell open and his hazel eyes were glistening wide. "No… How much?"

"What?" He whispered.

"How much do you know?" Patrick struggled to speak through his wavering voice.

"Not too much. I saw the shit-storm you caused in his office."

He narrowed his eyes. "Pete brought you in there?"

"No. Quite the contrary actually. He was really pissed when he found me there."

"Why were you… what—" Patrick shook his head. "When did this happen? Why were you at Pete's house?"

Brendon took a deep breath. "Pete texted me last night saying he wanted to get drunk. I agreed because why not? I didn't want to get wasted myself because Sarah is sick and I wanted to be able to take care of her."

"I'm sorry." Patrick looked at him with sad eyes. "I hope it's nothing too serious."

He shrugged. "It's her heart. The doctor came by, and she said it wasn't very serious." He waved his hand. "But anyway, Pete came by and we took his car to the bar. I knew something was wrong—I was just trying to be a good friend. I thought it would help if he talked about whatever was bothering him. He was adamant about keeping it to himself, but then he got a couple shots of vodka in him."

"No…" Patrick held his head in his hands. "What did he say?"

"Well, I figured the only thing that could get Pete so down would be getting in a fight with you. I asked him how mad you were and… he said you were pretty upset. I asked him what he did and he wouldn't say. So I asked if you two were still together or not, but he said he didn't even know himself. Did you? Did you guys break up?"

"I—we… well, no!" Patrick took a large gulp of his hot tea. Brendon thought he must have burned his throat. "I was pissed yeah, but I didn't break it off with him!"

"Pete took it pretty hard. He was a mess, Patrick. He really believes you're done with him. He told me about how you pretty much tried to kill him in his office." Brendon gave him a disappointed look. "I can't believe you did that. I didn't believe him until I saw it myself."

Patrick diverted his eyes in shame.

"But you probably had good reason. Pete wouldn't tell me what caused the fight. But he told me that you talked about breaking up with him before." Patrick didn't show any reaction. "And he told me what you said before you left. And he told me you were relapsing."

"He told you that?" Patrick yelled. His face heated up with anger. "I can't believe he told you that!"

"He was drunk, 'Trick. I'm sure he regrets it."

"Okay," Patrick pursed his lips. "What else did he tell you?"

"He told me…" Brendon let out a shaky breath. He took a sip of his tea as he built up his courage. "He told me that he wasn't actually supporting your recovery."

He had disbelief written all across his face. "Pete… he said that?" He looked like he was about to cry.

"He did." Brendon swallowed hard. "He convinced himself that he was 'toxic' to you. He says that you believe he liked you better unhealthy. Is that true?"

Tears were threating to fall from his eyes when he looked up. "I don't know. I think it's true, but part of me is screaming that it's not."

"He told me it's not true." He grabbed Patrick's hands. "He loves you! Pete is head over heels crazy about you!" Patrick showed a teary eyed smile. Brendon smiled back at him. "I tried to tell him that you still want him. And I thought I finally convinced him, but as I was driving him home, he started doubting again. He thought you two were done."

Patrick frowned. "I love him. I shouldn't have acted like that. I—" Patrick stopped himself. He shook his head and pulled his hands away. "Why are you here?"

Brendon looked at him with large, confused eyes and a stupid smile. He was panicking inside. "What do you mean?"

He rose his arms and shook his head incredulously. "You hate getting involved in drama. You wouldn't bring yourself into this like that. I don't believe you're only here to try and convince me to get back together with Pete. So tell me, what happened? Why are you really here?"

Brendon's mouth fell open. He was too afraid to speak so he took another large gulp of tea. He placed the mug back down and avoided making eye contact with Patrick as he continued speaking. "I had to help Pete into his house. He was a drunk stumbling mess; he couldn't even get up the stairs." Brendon sneaked a glance at Patrick, he was hanging on his every word. Brendon's heart rate kicked up. He had no idea what caused Patrick to flip out on Pete like he did in the office, but he knew whatever was about to happen was not going to be pretty.

Brendon fought tears as his voice tore apart with his words. "I helped him undress because he was having a hard time doing it himself—he couldn't get his belt off." Patrick looked at him with suspense evident in his eyes. Brendon wondered if he couldn't put two and two together on his own, or if he was just in deep denial. "I was going to leave after that, but he told me he was too sad; he said he couldn't sleep alone."

"No." Patrick whispered quietly.

He tucked his head down and squinted his eyes shut. "I decided to stay the night because I thought it was just a friendly thing to do. He would do the same for me. And he was really drunk; I didn't think it would be a good idea to leave him in that state.

"Please don't…" Patrick was crying now. "Please don't tell me that." His voice was so soft and all types of broken. Brendon thought this was worse than the hostile fit he was expecting. "You didn't." He was wiping his eyes with his hoodie covered hands. "Don't say that."

"I laid down next to him for a while. He was crying really hard about losing you. He said he didn't want to live anymore if he couldn't be with you. And I…" Patrick was sobbing quietly. His face was mostly covered by his large hoodie sleeves. "I kissed him to calm him down. I didn't think too much of it. We kiss all the time." Patrick started shaking his head as he choked on his tears. "But then he started kissing back, and it was different. I knew I should've… I should have done something." Brendon didn't know he was crying until he felt his tears drop on his hands in his lap.

Patrick lowered his hands. Brendon gathered enough courage to look at him and they locked eyes. Patrick was shaking with his sobs, and his face was so red. He was so quiet.

"But then he rolled on top of me and…" Brendon found himself unable to continue as he was overtaken by his tears.

"Brendon…" Patrick looked up at him so sadly. He looked so tiny, so trotted on. It broke Brendon's heart. "Did you sleep with Pete?"

He couldn't answer at first. Brendon tucked his head down as he cried. He looked back up at Patrick again and he knew he looked like a mess. "Patrick, I am so sorry." He shook his head slowly as he spoke.

Patrick screamed. He buried his face in his hands, somewhat muffling his screaming cries, as he got up and started pacing around the kitchen area. "No!" He shouted. "No! I don't believe you!"

Brendon stood up and followed him into the kitchen. "I am so sorry."

He leaned over on the counter and buried his face in his arms. "This is a nightmare." He squealed out.

"I tried to stop him. I really did! But he was drunk and…"

"What!" Patrick whipped around quickly. His expression was livid. "Do you want me to believe Pete raped you? Really Brendon?" Patrick's voice hit a crack when he said 'raped'. If anything, Brendon took advantage of Pete's drunken state.

"No, no, no!" Brendon waved his arms out. "That's not what I mean. I meant… It wasn't supposed to happen. It's not something I'm proud of."

Patrick slowly sunk to the floor and pulled his legs to his chest. "I can't believe you! I can't believe you would do this to me!" He slapped his hand on the floor to relieve some of his agitation. "You're supposed to be one of my best friends. I loved you! You slept with my boyfriend!" He held his head in his hands and pulled at his hair. "Why would you do this to me?"

Brendon shook his head as he slowly kneeled down to the floor in front of Patrick. "Patrick, I am so, so sorry. I regret everything. I regret it so much. I don't expect you to forgive me; I'll never forgive myself." He paused to wipe at his tears. "I'm so awful. I'm a terrible friend. I hate myself for it."

Patrick remained balled up on the floor crying his heart out as loudly as he could for about four minutes until he began to calm down. When he slowly brought his bloodshot red eyes to Brendon's. His voice was hoarse from his screams as he spoke. "Why… why tell me? Why not keep it a secret? Why are you hurting me like this?"

 "No, Patrick. Hurting you wasn't my goal. I just didn't want to lie to you." Patrick looked at him in confusion. "Patrick, I love you. You matter to me. I'd never be able to look at you honestly ever again. This lie was already eating away at me." Patrick scoffed and turned his head away. "I care about you, Patrick. I care about you so much. I'd take back what I did a second before it happened. I…" his voice faltered as fresh tears fell. "I'd never want to hurt you." He took a few moments to regain his composure before speaking again. "Pete told me… he said that if I told you, he would drop Panic from the label." Brendon cried like the news was new to him all over again. He could only imagine what he would tell Dallon.

Patrick acted like he hadn't heard him at first. He eventually turned his head around and gave Brendon a somewhat confused, somewhat disappointed look. "And you believed him?"

He stuttered. The question caught him off guard. "Well… yeah. Yes. Of course I did."

"Come on, Brendon." Patrick tilted his head back and hit his head against the cabinets behind him. "He's just saying that. He knows I'd grate his ass with a cheese grader before letting him drop Panic." They both offered empty sounding laughs. "I don't know if I'll ever forgive you," Patrick smiled at him bitterly, "But I really want to try. I am so pissed at you. I want to snap your neck. But Pete isn't innocent either."

Brendon blinked. 'Snap his neck'? That was one of the most uncharacteristic things he's ever heard Patrick say. But he couldn't blame the guy.

"Can I just have some time to myself, please?" Leaning on the counter for support, Patrick shakily made his way up from the floor.

"Are you sure you're safe on your own?" Brendon rose with him, holding his hands out in case Patrick fell.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just really need to be alone for a while." He wrapped his arms around himself. "I really don't want to see you right now."

"I totally understand. I'm not feeling the whole neck snapping thing either." Patrick didn't spare a laugh as Brendon turned to leave. He was about to exit the kitchen when Patrick spoke again.

"Thank you for telling me." He flopped his arms by his sides. "I know it was a hard thing to come clean about. I really appreciate you not keeping it a secret."

Brendon smiled and dropped his head down. He couldn't think of anything to say as he left the kitchen and walked out of the house.

Patrick heard the door slam shut and he turned back to the counter, held his head in his hands, and cried alone in silence. About ten minutes had passed until he picked himself up. He was getting hunger pains. The first day of fasting was always the hardest. He pulled himself to his room and walked through it to the bathroom. He opened up the medicine cabinet and retrieved a large bottle of benzodiazepines.

He took shaky breaths as he unscrewed the bottle. He shook two into his palm and filled the cup on his bathroom counter with tap water. He downed the two pills and stood at the counter breathing heavy and feeling dissatisfied. Logically, he knew they would kick in soon enough, but he wanted relief and numbness now. He took two more. Patrick slowly brought his gaze up and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked exactly like how he felt. Pete would be so disappointed in him if he saw him now.

He downed an entire handful. He didn't need to know how much it was. He didn't want to think about Pete or how he would feel about this. He trudged himself back into his room and pulled himself under the covers. He forced his eyes shut and tried to focus on nothing but his breathing until the darkness of sleep crawled over him like a predator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I even decide where to cut these things whoops. I hope this wasn't too much of a cliff-hanger! If I keep on schedule, I should be able to post about a chapter a day, but I'm going to be really busy later on this week. :(
> 
> Don't forget to let me know what you think! And check out qualitygarbage on tumblr for updates on the fic and also TO GET YOUR FREE FANFICTION!! Can you believe nobody has requested any yet? Requests end August 7th 2016 and I won't start working on them until I finish this fic so don't worry your pretty little head about that one, dearies.
> 
> Wishing you the best! <3
> 
> [My blog](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/) |[contact me](mailto:therealtrashqueen@gmail.com?Subject=Hey%20I%20found%20you%20on%20AO3) |[get a free fic](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/post/144081720015/summer-of-sin-event-get-a-free-fic-this-summer)


	3. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick wakes up after being asleep for more than 24 hours after his overdose. However, he's not awake for very long, and he ends up overdosing yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took a lot longer than expected! ^^;  
> Today is another great day because I was actually awake enough to proofread again. The future is now lol. But like last time, don't be surprised if I missed any typos again.
> 
> Also, I want to point out that I still don't really know how to use the archive and this is my first time posting anything with chapters and I keep fucking up lol. Are you guys getting hella notifications? I remember ff.net used to notify subscribers (or alert-ers lol) whenever a story was updated, but I think AO3 only notifies for new chapters? Is that right?
> 
> Thank you everyone for sticking around for this long! <3 all your comments and support mean the world to me! I am so grateful for all of you! All your support is wonderful, I'm hoping I can keep it at one chapter a day!!
> 
> Fair warning, this chapter is sad.com. I mean, it's not very sad, but it's the most triggering chapter in this story. This is (probably) the chapter our little sadistic selves have all been waiting for.
> 
> I love you so much and I hope you enjoy his short little chapter! <3

Patrick woke up with an otherworldly headache. He rolled over and checked his phone. The battery had died, so he reached for his charger and plugged his phone in before trying to turn it on.

He glanced out the window as he waited. It looked like late afternoon, possibly five or six. He groaned as he sat up. Why did he go to bed so early? Why was he waking now in the evening? His phone rang the company tune as it turned on, and he rolled back around to check the time. Like he expected, it was around five-thirty. But he had to do a double check on the date. He remembers circulation with Joe, meaning it was Wednesday, but he can't remember anything after that. But according to his phone, it was Thursday. If he was really asleep for that long, dehydration would explain the headache.

The notification center showed he had five missed calls, two from his mom, one from Joe, and two from Pete, and two unheard voicemail messages. He hit the voicemail notification and listened on speaker phone. The first one was from Joe.

"Hey, 'Trick. I got a call from the pickup guys; they said that you wouldn't answer the door? Did you not finish signing the guitars? Well it's okay if you want to hold it off until next week. Pete probably didn't remember either. I hope you're okay bud. Things will be better before you know it. Bye, Patrick."

The next message was from his mom

"Patrick, baby. What's going on? You didn't show up to your monthly therapy appointment. You're supposed to be in the exiting stages of the recovery plan; just this and one more meeting. I'm worried—especially with what you told me on Tuesday. I know Pete is your emergency contact, but they couldn't reach him. Just… call me when you get this message, okay? I love you. Bye."

"Fuck!" Patrick dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. How could he forget about that appointment? He wanted nothing more than to be out of therapy, and now he would be questioned up and down on why he missed the appointment.

Stumbling as he rolled out of bed, Patrick made his way into the bathroom and dropped palms first onto the counter. Peering up into the mirror, he saw that he looked exactly like how he felt. He downed exactly eight cups of tap water from the cup on the counter. He aggressively brushed his teeth and took an ice cold shower.

He let the water fall over him as he searched his brain to recollect the events that took place after circulation. He remembers Joe wanted to go somewhere with him and he didn't want to go. To eat? Someone came over… was it Andy? Frustrated, he flung the shower curtain open and stomped out. As he was stepping out, something caught his eye.

The bottle of benzodiazepines was still sitting on the counter. He shook his head and continued to his room to get dressed. Whatever happened yesterday must have been something he wanted to forget. He put on another pair of shorts, some clean socks, and a t-shirt that was a size or two too big. His normal 'comfort shirts' were regular sized on him now, and he'd tossed any t-shirts with more than one 'x' on the tag during his last relapse.

He was sitting on his bed staring at the wall. It may have seemed strange, but he had a good reason. Patrick could almost swear he was hearing something going on in his house. He almost went for the baseball bat in his closet, but he remembered Joe's voicemail. Whoever was the last person out of his house must not have locked the door. Joe was probably just picking up the guitars. He would be really pissed that Patrick hadn't done a single thing he asked.

But it wasn't Joe or the pickup guys in his kitchen. There was Pete, unaware he was being watched by Patrick peeking around the corner. Pete was wearing a white button down, a black tie, and grey pants. He had his hair slicked back and looked very well put together overall. He was holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a gift bag in the other. He noticed Pete was busying himself with setting the dining room table, which already nice center piece made of balloons on it.

Revealing himself from the shadows, Patrick cleared his throat.

Pete nearly flipped his shit. Placing the objects on the table, he smiled nervously. "P-Patrick. Hi." He stepped closer with his arms out.

Humming lightly, Patrick took a few steps towards him with his arms wrapped around his chest. "Hi," he whispered quietly with a shy smile.

Pete ran a hand through his hair nervously. "These are for you." He gestured towards the dining room table.

Patrick let out a light giggle. "I figured. Who else would they be for?" He joked.

The confused look on Pete's face made Patrick self-conscious. Pete made a small sound of disbelief. "You're not mad?"

"Mad about what, Pete?" Patrick answered far too quickly.

"'Trick…" Pete came closer. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He held a hand to his face and looked around the kitchen. His kettle was on the stove which means the last time he was here, he was drinking tea although Pete might have cleaned up his tea set. He remembers having tea with someone…

Brendon. Brendon was here yesterday after Joe left. Everything is blurry, but he knows that's what led up to him overdosing. Why couldn't he remember?

"Patrick." Pete placed a hand on his shoulder. He had such a sad and confused look on his face.

Pulling away, he stumbled back. "Don't touch me." He doesn't know why he was acting so hostile. He just wanted to sleep. Pete was being confusing and it was making his head hurt. He turned away and walked into the living room. Patrick stopped dead in his tracks. His emergency TMNT stash was out. All the tapes were organized and put into the box, but he knows Pete put them in there. He must have already been upset before Brendon came over.

Patrick held a hand to his mouth. He felt like he was going to gag. Everything started spinning. He was dizzy and overwhelmed as the memories flooded back to him all at once like film strips. He remembers picking up a fast, working on circulation with Joe, having tea with Brendon. He remembers being in Pete's home office Tuesday night. He remembers Brendon crying yesterday when he told him.

Pete walked in behind him, looking incredibly nervous and not as well put together as Patrick originally thought.

Patrick turned around and looked at him in the eyes, fear reaching his expression.

"Patrick, did you take something?"

Pete slept with Brendon.

"I got a call from your therapist. She said you missed the meeting."

Patrick felt very vulnerable. He folded his arms across his body. "You said you were sorry. What are you sorry about?" Patrick held his head high and blinked rapidly to prevent tears from falling.

"I'm sorry about everything." Pete gave him a pleading look and Patrick just wanted to run into his arms and kiss him and forget the whole thing.

But he wouldn't.

"No, be specific. What are you apologizing for?" He said the second sentence in staccato, each word shooting out like bullets through his teeth.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for…" His voice trailed off. Pete took in a deep breath before he could continue. "I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm sorry for not being the best boyfriend I could be. I'm sorry for not putting my all in helping you with your recovery. I'm sorry for not holding on to our relationship better. I'm sorry for saving the images I told you I deleted. I'm sorry for making you cry. I'm sorry for not always listening to you, for coming home late. I'm sorry that I objectified you. I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm sorry for—" Pete's voice hitched in his throat. He covered his face with his hands.

Patrick marched up to him. "No, what were you going to say."

"Patrick please!" Pete lowered his hands and looked at Patrick with wet eyes. "I am sorry about everything I've ever done to hurt you." Patrick wasn't letting up on him, he sighed. "I'm sorry for not making your feelings top priority."

"No!" Patrick shouted. He stood on his toes and aggressively pointed a finger in Pete's face. "What else?" He paused and lowered his voice. "What else are you sorry about, Pete?"

"I'm sorry for thinking that some flowers and a nice dinner is enough to make up for how much I hurt you." Patrick was still glaring at him angrily. It was clearly visible on Pete's face when the gears in his head started working. "He… he told you didn't he? Fuck."

"Yes. He did." Patrick was mad, but he didn't know what to do with himself. He just stood there shaking.

Pete looked up and stomped his foot. He was screwed now. "I don't know what to say."

"Glad you're realizing that a sorry and some flowers won't fix any of this." He scoffed in disbelief. "Were you ever going to tell me about this?" Pete didn't answer. He only covered his face again. Patrick pushed him by his shoulders. "Were you?" He asked louder.

"I don't know." Pete cried. His voice croaked with every word. "I don't know. I couldn't work up the courage to tell you yet. Especially because of how our relationship has been lately. I was too scared."

"And Brendon wasn't?" He screeched.

"You don't mean the same to Brendon as you do to me!" Pete shouted back.

Patrick was stunned. Pete never yells at him. He couldn't remember the last time Pete raised his voice at him. Even when the fought on tour—he remembers saying especially dirty and hurtful things to Pete during the Folie tour. Pete normally stood with his shoulders slumped and took it. He fought with everyone else, with Andy and Joe, but never with Patrick.

Pete felt guilty. He could only hope that it didn't show on his face. He wanted to put Patrick in his place for once in his life. "I love you with everything I have, Patrick. I regret everything I did that night. Everything."

Patrick put his hands on his hips. He leaned forward into Pete's face. "Did it feel good, Pete?" He taunted. "Was it a good fuck? Was it worth it? Were you thinking of me when you were balls deep in his skinny little ass? Were you thinking about how fat I am while you were fucking him? 'Cause there sure ain't any on his bony body. Didn't know you liked them thin. I can't believe I fell for all those lies you told me. You said you didn't mind me gaining weight. Even made this big old scene about having a damn fetish. Why'd you say that? Why? So I would balloon into a land whale so nobody else would look at me? Did you want this relapse? Bet you could tell I was gaining and you wanted me to starve it all off." His face was a deep shade of red and he held his hands in fists. "Why do you hate me so much?" His voice cracked. "I love you. I trusted you. I've been nothing but good to you. Why do you keep hurting me?" He sniffled and wiped the tears off his face. "I don't deserve this."

"No!" Pete reached out for Patrick's hands, but he pulled away. "It's not like that at all. I was drunk. I was stupid. I was a mess. I am a mess." The tears ran down his face in thick streaks. "Please don't leave me! I wish that night never happened. I wish I never hurt you."

"Why did you do it?"

"I was heartbroken, Patrick! I was drunk and… and my feelings were screwed up. I missed you. I was lonely and I was hurting. But the alcohol mixed that all up and Brendon—"

"Why did you get drunk with him?"

"Because I wanted the pain to go away!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Why didn't you just down a bottle of Ativan then?" His hands flew to his mouth. Patrick regretted it the moment it came out. He looked at Pete with large eyes.

Pete was mad. His nostrils were flared and he was breathing like a madman. He jerked his hand up like he was going to strike Patrick, but he slowly curled his fingers into a fist and lowered it to his side. Squinting his eyes shut, he bowed his head. He had to take deep breaths before speaking shakily, "I know you didn't mean that."

He didn't. He wanted to say he was sorry, but his pride wouldn't let him. He tucked his head down and looked away.

"I know you didn't mean to say that. I love you, Patrick, and I'm sorry for what I did. Can we just…" He reached out, but Patrick stepped back.

"I think you should leave."

Pete was shocked. He looked at him confused. "But—"

"Just leave, please." He held his arm out towards the door.

"Patrick please!"

"Get out of my house!" He shook the room with the power of his voice, his arm shakily pointing to the door with eyes closed and head ducked down.

Pete pouted. He huffed, but before Patrick knew it, the sounds of footsteps around him transitioned into the door swinging open and then shut.

He sunk to his knees. Patrick didn't have the tears to cry anymore. He sat on the floor for a bit before walking into his dining room. It was quite a feast Pete had set up for him. There were two plates of fancy salad set up. Patrick knew which one was his, because there was sliced grilled chicken on the side of one plate. Looking at the stove he saw the "hot surface" light was still on even though Pete had already washed and put away any materials he used. He wonders how long Pete was here. Two empty wine glasses sat on the table. He looked into the gift bag. Pete had splurged on a very expensive wine they both loved. He remembers drinking it last at their Guinness celebration date.

Reaching into the gift bag, he pulled out a card. Pete had made it himself, he could tell by the bad handwriting. It was made from card-stock and craft scissors and flower stamps. A little feminine, but okay. He opened it and read Pete's attempt at cursive.

_Dear Patrick, You mean so much more to me than I can ever put into words. I'm sorry for hurting you, but I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I owe my life to you and there's nobody else I'd want to spend it with more._

Patrick couldn't even get through the rest of the letter. He can't believe Pete had the nerve to write this with infidelity on his conscience. He sure had a way with words, but Patrick was beginning to become suspicious of everything he said. How could Pete even sit with himself?  Patrick ripped the card in half. Then he ripped it again, And again. He picked up the plates and threw the salads in the trash. He dropped the plates in the sink and ran to his room.

His head was pounding. He just wanted to relax. He didn't want to cry anymore or think about anything. He stomped into his bathroom and took another handful of benzodiazepines. He swallowed all the pills in one go and he was left breathless afterwards. Patrick looked at his hunched over, panting reflection in the mirror. He didn't want to lie down in bed again and wait for them to kick in.

He stepped back from the mirror. Patrick tore his shirt over his head and frowned at his reflection. He wonders how much he weighs and how much he lost from his fast. He doesn't have a scale. Patrick remembers during his last recovery when Pete convinced him to destroy his scale. It was fun and liberating at the time. He threw it down on the pavement and smashed it with a sledge hammer as Pete cheered him on. He was so proud that day.

With his arms wrapped around his body, Patrick walked back into his kitchen. His hands were shaking relentlessly as he reached for the knife block. He pulled out a medium sized knife and took a deep breath. He can't remember the last time he's done this, but he's sure Pete can.

He took a short time to survey the blade before he was wandering back into the bathroom. Patrick stripped out of the rest of his clothes. He doesn't have a full length mirror in here so he can't see past the top of this thighs, but he sees enough.

Patrick almost slips while stumbling into the bathtub. The pills might have started kicking in faster than he expected. He sits down in the tub, leans his head back and sighs. It's cold in here, but he feels like that's okay. He twirls his wrist, inspecting the blade for a moment. He's seeing double and he wonders how many pills he took.

Probably not a lethal dose. It's not a too harmful drug.

Patrick stops short for something similar to a brief prayer. He runs the blade across his stomach, not deep enough to draw blood. He looks at the scratch he created on his body. He repeats the same light pattern a few times before deciding he needed more. He pushed the knife in deeper as he dragged it across his skin. His eyes were closed, but he could feel the dribble of blood. It didn't hurt. It was more soothing and therapeutic. He touched the blood with his free hand and brought it up to his face. It was coated on his palm.

The drugs were definitely starting to kick in; his head was swimming. He made a couple more slow drags with the knife before his movements became frantic. His breath hastened and he made a few deep quick strikes into his stomach, until it actually started to hurt.

He was breathing heavy. The blood was prickling his stomach, so he tried to wipe it off with his hands. His vision was blacking in and out. No matter how many times he tried to wipe it off, it kept trickling down on his skin and the feeling was agonizing. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, and became mildly upset when he remembered just coated his hair in blood. No problem though, he was in a bathtub after all. But right now, he was too tired to concentrate on anything. Next thing he knew, he was leaning back against the wall of the bath with his legs slightly bent and his arms wrapped around him as the drugs lured him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am so so so sorry this chapter is so short!! This is another reason why I'm not really a fan of chapter works, you never really know when to cut each chapter off. I like posting one really long work and then the reader can decide to take breaks. I feel that it improves the flow of the fic when it's all posted at once. One advantage to chapters, however, is that I can continue to work on the fic after posting it. What do you guys prefer?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! It's really late, so I don't think I'll be able to upload a second chapter tonight, but I'll do my best to get to it tomorrow! Let me know what you think so far! And don't forget to read my blog for updates on this story.
> 
> Thanks dearies!! <3
> 
> [My blog](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/) |[contact me](mailto:therealtrashqueen@gmail.com?Subject=Hey%20I%20found%20you%20on%20AO3) |[get a free fic](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/post/144081720015/summer-of-sin-event-get-a-free-fic-this-summer)


	4. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy and Joe search for Patrick after not hearing from him for days. Patrick tells them about Pete's infidelity and they go to his office to confront him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmh. So like, halfway through editing this, I realized that Pete did not take his medications even once throughout this story. Damn, Kelsey. Back at it again with the ableist bullshit lmao. I hate that meme. I don't think it's funny. Why did I even...
> 
> So yeah. I added that in last minute. I'm considering going back over some previous chapters and adding it in, since it doesn't require more than a line or two, but eeeehh. We're good.
> 
> I know you all have seen that lil' tag there that says one of the characters is a female OC and fair warning she appears in this chapter. She's only in this chapter for one scene and in the last chapter for one (or two I can't remember lol) scene. But I hate OCs and I want to respect people who hate them too, but she's critical to making a long running joke in this series blossom (no spoilers XD) Besides, I think you'll like her!
> 
> Last chapter didn't get too much love and it made me sad :( did you all not like it? Please!! Give me some feedback so I know what you're thinking! I want to write stuff you want to read!! Help me do so! I love you all so much and part of the reason I do this is to make you guys happy! So much love you guys! Please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! <3

"Patrick?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Andy? He could just be out of town or something." Joe stood behind Andy with his arms folded. Andy just broke down Patrick's door, and while he was fairly certain Patrick wouldn't call the cops on them, he would be mighty pissed. But he was concerned too.

"Out of town without telling anyone?" Andy turned around angrily. "The guy doesn't even buy a new fedora without snapchatting us for our opinions first."

It was true, but Joe shrugged anyway. He still didn't feel comfortable with breaking into his friend's house. "I mean, maybe he just went to his mom's house."

Andy was too suspicious to find that credible. He walked over to the TMNT box and inspected the writing on it before checking the inside and scoffing at the contents. "You said the last time you heard from him was Wednesday morning, right? Well it's Saturday now and that's enough time for the police to accept a missing persons report."

Joe followed him into the kitchen. "Why don't we just call in then?"

"Ah yes, why don't we just call the police and let everyone know that we lost the world's most adorable rock singer?"

"I'm sure it's nothing anyway. Okay, but do you have to go all CSI? Why are you checking his trash?"

He took his foot off the trash step. "Because Patrick would take out his trash before going on a trip. And he obviously didn't." He walked into the dining room area. "What's all this?" He gestured to the table.

Joe stepped into the room. "Oh, maybe Pete apologized."

"What?"

"Yeah, Patrick was hella upset during circulation and Pete wasn't there. Apparently they got into a fight or something."

Andy looked at him with wide eyes. "And you didn't tell me this because…?"

"Well it's not really my business. I didn't know you were going to break into his house, sheesh. But look, they didn't clean up so maybe—"

"Pete's car isn't here." Andy cut him off. "Plus whatever was on this table is in the trash now. Look," He picked up a few pieces of ripped card. "Apology not accepted."

Joe gave a bitch face and a golf clap. "Good job, Sherlock." He pulled at his curls nervously when Andy threw him a 'this is not a game' type look. "So Patrick is here then?"

"I'm thinking he is." Andy turned around and started walking through the house. "Patrick?" He called.

Meanwhile, Patrick was coming to in the tub. His vision was blurry as he blinked his eyes open. "Wha—?" His voice almost hurt to use it. His head roared at him with the wrath of hell, and he couldn't focus on anything. He didn't have a clue what was going on. He jumped and let out a small noise when he realized he was covered in blood. He was caked in it; dry cracking blood covered his skin. His eyes were darting around, and his breathing kicked up. He tried his best to calm himself, now is not the time for an asthma attack. He closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths.

Calmed down a bit, he started looking around at his surroundings. He didn't know how he got here or why he was covered in blood, but maybe something would help out. It didn't look like an attack took place, his bathroom was still mostly in order. He started looking around the tub, it was just covered in dry blood. He started feeling the area around him when he let out a hiss.

His finger was cut. He looked down at the perpetrator and saw the knife on the floor of the tub between his legs. He panicked. Patrick kicked his legs in fear and tried to pull himself up. The cuts on his stomach reacted to his efforts and a few of the partially healed ones, the deeper cuts, broke open and began spewing blood. He made a small sound, sunk back down, and pulled his legs up to his chest.

"Did you hear that?" Andy asked Joe in the hall. Joe nodded. He tried to look nonchalant, but he was a bit afraid. What if there was a murderer in here or something? He wasn't quite sure he could outrun the murderer. And he sure as hell knew he couldn't outrun Andy. "Come on!" Andy grabbed Joe's hand and pulled him into Patrick's bedroom. "Patrick?"

Patrick's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know what to do. He was naked and covered in blood evidence was piling up to show he did to himself. He slowly pulled the translucent shower curtain mostly shut, leaving only his head out. "I'm in here," he answered tentatively.

"Patrick!" Andy stood a few feet away from the doorway. Joe walked up behind him.

Joe folded his arms. "See Andy? He's fine. He's just taking a bath. Are you taking a bath, Patrick?"

He was frozen by fear for a moment. His head started nodding on its own accord before he worked up the nerve to speak. "Yeah… I'm just taking a bath."

"See! He's okay. Let's go home."

Andy grabbed his arm. "Taking a bath with no water? Do you hear any?" he said to Joe in a quiet, hasty voice. Joe shook his head. Andy took a few steps closer.

"Don't come in; I'm naked." Patrick called weakly.

Andy halted in mid step. He didn't know what to do until Patrick raised his hand to close the curtain some more. "Patrick? Is that blood?" Joe perked up at that, he stepped next to Andy.

"No," His voice shook with the pointless lie.

"What are you doing in the—" Andy stomped into the bathroom, ripped the shower curtain open, and stood stunned at the literal bloodbath in front of him.

Joe followed in reluctantly to see what Andy was so shocked about. He didn't want to invade Patrick's privacy. Joe almost lost his shit at the sight of it. Far more blood than he was comfortable with. "Um, Andy. I think we should actually call the cops now."

"No!" Andy shouted in Joe's face. "This will stick with him forever. People will never shut up about it. Patrick's been doing a great job at hiding his eating disorder and I don't think we should rat him out. He'll be on the six o'clock news."

"Maybe it's worth it?" Joe shouted with his arms out.

"Let's ask him." He leaned down close to Patrick's face. "Hey, 'Trick. Do you wanna be on the six o'clock news?"

Patrick shook his head quickly with his eyes open wide. He didn't really know what was going on, but he didn't want whatever Andy was asking about—it didn't sound too good.

"Okay see?" Andy stood back up and gestured to Patrick. "How long do you think he's been here?"

Joe took a few steps back. There was too much blood and it was getting to him. "I don't know. Hopefully not since Wednesday. Why don't you just ask him again?"

Andy decided to ignore Joe's sass. He reached down and began pulling Patrick up. "Can you walk?" He asked once he held Patrick slightly above the floor in a near standing position.

Patrick nodded slowly, but after one step, it was evident that he could not walk.

"I'll take him to his bed." Andy said as he started carrying Patrick away. "Find some gauze tape, a wet cloth, and some disinfectants." Joe gave the thumbs up, glad that he wouldn't be touching any blood, and pried open the medical cabinet. Andy laid Patrick down on his back. He ran into the bathroom and got a towel to cover Patrick's lower half.

"Am I going to die?" Patrick asked plainly.

"Not on my watch." Andy sat down next to him on the bed. "Do you know who I am?"

Patrick blinked a bit. He seemed to be thinking about it a lot. "You're Andy."

"Okay good. Do you know who you are?" Patrick nodded and Andy opted to believe him. "Where are you?"

"I'm… I'm in my house. This is my room? My head hurts." Patrick closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"I know, stay with me Patrick. Do you know what day it is?"

Patrick looked at him for a few seconds. He shook his head.

Joe returned with an armful of items. He handed the damp washcloth to Andy and set the rest of the things on the nightstand. He took a step back. "Man, he is fucked up."

Andy busied himself with wiping the blood off of Patrick. He wiped his limbs first before having to run to the bathroom to rinse it off, come back and cleaning off his abdomen. When he finished, he held the cloth out to Joe who took it with the tips of his index finger and thumb and brought it back into the bathroom.

"Sorry, 'Trick. This is going to sting a bit." Andy dumped some of the rubbing alcohol on Patrick's body. The younger man made a quiet screaming sound. "Sorry, sorry." Andy grounded out. He turned to Joe. "Can you find him some clothes? He'll be pissed when he remembers he was naked this long."

Joe turned away to the dresser and Andy reached for the gauze. "I'm going to need you to sit up for this." Patrick nodded. Everything hurt, but with Andy's help, he was able to pull himself up. Andy wrapped him in the gauze as Joe returned with a clean set of clothes. "How about you get dressed, Patrick? Joe and I will be right outside." Patrick nodded blankly and watched the pair leave.

"Do we tell him?" Joe asked as soon as Andy shut the door.

Andy scratched his head. "I don't know. Probably. Pete would be pissed if we didn't tell him." He folded his arms and sighed. "But I don't think we should. Patrick was pretty pissed the last time Pete was here—that's evident enough. And if we tell Pete, he'll probably just show up and make things worse."

"You're probably right. We should ask Patrick what he thinks when he's back to himself." He tilted his head back and looked up. "He needs to eat."

"You think he's relapsing?"

Joe shrugged. "He didn't want to eat out with me after circulation. He said he had 'plans' with Brendon, but I don't think it was over food, Brendon seemed riled up about something. It was probably business. But my hunch tells me he hasn't eaten since Tuesday."

Andy ran a hand down his face. His band was always finding new ways to get themselves killed. He knocked on the door behind him without turning around. "Patrick, are you finished in there?"

"Yeah. Come in." His voice sounded a lot clearer than it had been.

Patrick was standing upright by his bed in pajama pants and a Fall Out Boy shirt. His hands were on the bed and he was leaning on his arms for support. His eyes were more focused now and he had a more defined expression on his face. "I'm sorry to worry you." He tried to step closer to his friends, but walking was obviously a very painful task. "I shouldn't have done that…" His eyes darted away.

Andy ran up to hug him. Patrick hugged back weakly; one hand had to remain on the bed to support him.

"How are you feeling, Patrick?" Joe asked gently.

Patrick pulled away and smiled at Andy. It was really nice to smile; he couldn't remember the last time he did. He turned to Joe and sat on the edge of his bed. Standing hurt too much. "Well, my body hurts," He crossed his arms over his stomach, "A lot. And my head is killing me."

"Are you hungry?" Andy asked with intent.

"No." Patrick answered too quickly. "No, I can't think about food right now. I'll eat later when my mind is clearer.

"You were MIA for like three days and you aren't hungry? Really, 'Trick? Food would be the first thing on my mind." Joe commented.

"But you're not me, okay?" Patrick glared at him. He felt bad for being rude to his friends who just saved his life, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was eat. "My everything hurts and the room is spinning. Wait… I've been in there for three days?"

"I'm not exactly sure about that." Andy answered gently. "We found you today. It's Saturday. Nobody's heard from you since Wednesday circulation with Joe."

"Circulation?" Patrick had a frustrated expression on his face. He held his hand up to his head as he thought. "That's not true… I had visitors after circulation." He tried to think about it, but his head was pounding and his memory was too fuzzy.

Joe looked at Andy. "He didn't have anything on the table when I was over." Turning his attention back to Patrick, he asked "Brendon visited you after I left. Did anyone else come over?"

Patrick looked confused. "Yeah, I think so. I'm tired so maybe I should just…" Patrick started falling backwards.

"Nope." Andy caught him and pushed him back up to sitting before he could lay down and fall asleep again. "You're not taking another coma. Not until we get some food into you at least."

"Cereal." Patrick mumbled with his head down. It was his subconscious speaking for him. Patrick wouldn't admit to being hungry, but he was near dying and his brain was kicking in and cereal was his favorite thing to eat.

Joe laughed. "Yeah, cereal is the shit, but it's not gonna cut it this time." Joe's eyes lit up. Andy caught it.

"Don't you dare."

"But do you know where we could go?"

"No."

"We could go to…"

"No."

"The food is great at…"

"Joe, don't say it."

"Chipotle!" Patrick blurted out in his half asleep state as he collapsed on his back.

Joe smiled. "See! Patrick wants to go too! Give me five, brother!" Patrick put both his arms up and Andy rolled his eyes as Joe slapped his hands.

"Patrick can't go out dressed like that." Andy argued gesturing to Patrick's pajamas.

"He doesn't have to go inside. Come on, Patrick." Joe pulled Patrick up by his arms while he groaned in protest. "We're getting you some sunshine."

Patrick slid off the bed on his own. He leaned on Andy for support as they made their way out the door to Andy's car.

"When was the last time you were outside, 'Trick? You look paler than usual." Joe asked as he opened the back door.

Patrick attempted a weak version of his bitch face as he plopped down on the seat. "Tuesday."

Joe got situated in the passenger seat as Andy started the car. "That's not too bad. Sometimes I go a whole week without going outside."

Andy looked at him in confusion as he backed out. "How do you manage that?"

"It was easier before I had Ruby. But I guess that's a good thing."

The ride to their location was mostly silent. Joe turned around in his seat and slapped Patrick on the leg whenever he heard him snoring. Andy pulled into a parking spot and turned to Joe.

"Get him a burrito or something. I don't know. He likes those. And I want rice with sofritas."

Joe grinned at him. "And here you are acting like you hate Chipotle."

"I don't hate it. I just eat it all the time thanks to you. I like some variety in my life."

"Says the vegan," Joe sassed as he slammed the door shut.

"Vegans have plenty of variety," Andy mumbled to himself. "We're more creative than meat eaters." He looked up at Patrick through the rearview mirror. The poor guy looked like he'd been hit by a bus. Or three. Andy felt a little bit guilty for not at least putting his glasses and a hat on him. His face looked hollow and a dangerous shade of pale and purple. Everything about him screamed exhaustion. "Hey, 'Trick." Patrick slowly directed his attention to Andy's eyes in the rearview mirror. "How are you holding up back there?"

Patrick took a while to answer he shuffled around in his seat. "The seatbelt is hurting me." He pulled on the strap that sat across his body.

"You can take it off for now. We're parked." He watched as Patrick unbuckled himself and shifted in the seat. "But you know what I meant. How are you feeling?"

"Pain." Patrick answered quickly. "Everything still hurts." He rubbed his hair. "And I'm tired. I know I slept for more than twenty-four hours, but it feels like I haven't slept in days. And…" He bowed his head down like he was going to cry, but no tears were falling. "And I'm really sad, Andy. I don't know why or what it is, but it feels like something has been ripped out of me."

"Like how you ripped up Pete's card?" Andy bit his tongue too late.

His head snapped up. "What?"

He turned around in his seat. "Wait, you don't remember Pete coming over?" Patrick had a stressed expression on. "After Brendon visited?"

Patrick took a few deep breaths with his head down. "I remember now. It's all kind of fuzzy. I remember being really mad at him. And I kicked him out of my house."

Andy blinked. "Why'd you do that?"

He held his arms out and dropped them in confusion. "I don't know. I was mad at him."

Before Andy had a chance to question him more, the passenger door flew open and Joe slid inside. "I love coming in post lunch rush. And all the employees know me by name."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Well no shit. You're Joe Trohman."

Joe laughed. "Oh, heh. I forgot for a second." Andy started pulling out of the parking lot. He turned around and slapped Patrick on the knee. "Doing alright there buddy?" Patrick nodded. "Hey, put your seatbelt on." Patrick frowned but complied.

"We'll eat lunch at your house, okay?" Andy informed him more than asked. "We can eat on your patio so you can soak up some sun."

"I don't wanna eat."

"Don't even bother. We know, and you're not getting out of it." Joe told him.

Once they arrived out back at Patrick's house, he got out of the car on his own, just to show his friends that he could. He only stumbled a little bit as he made his way to the door. When Patrick pulled his front door open, he realized something about it was off. He toyed with it, swinging the door open and closed, until Joe came up behind him laughing.

"Oh yeah, Andy busted your door down when we came to look for you. It was pretty badass to watch."

"Sorry," Andy said blushing. "But if I didn't, we wouldn't have been able to rescue you."

"But Andy! Someone could break in!"

"Says the guy who didn't even remember to put his alarm system up," Joe quipped as he carried the takeaway bags around Patrick to the inside. "Don't worry. Nobody will be able to tell that it's broken. It's not like the crazy fans are always testing out your door."

Patrick left the door alone and followed Joe to the back, he was still unsettled about the whole ordeal.

"I'll fix it after lunch, promise." Andy smiled nervously at him.

"Thanks. It's fine. I'm glad you did it." Patrick smiled back.

Joe pulled open the back door, and they filed out. He divvied out the food to everyone as they took their places around the table. "Here's to a great day's work of saving the day." Joe raised his cup with his toast. He took a few forkfuls of his salad bowl before addressing Patrick. "You've gotta eat, man. 'Burritos are rad!' Remember? You said it yourself!"

"They are rad." Patrick confirmed with folded arms.

"It's okay, Patrick." Andy assured him. "There's no reason not to eat. You'll feel way better after you do. And you deserve food."

Patrick felt a bit of comfort hearing those words from his friend. He really couldn't remember why he wasn't eating. He was dizzy and everything hurt, but he refused to let himself eat. It wasn't like not eating would fix all the problems he had with Pete. But being skinny would make him feel better about everything. He looked at Joe who was shoveling 'salad' down his throat. It was covered in sodium laden sauce, fried chicken, cheese, and full fat ranch. And Joe was so slender; he didn't even have to work out like Pete does. It just wasn't fair.

He shook his head.

Andy frowned. He thought he broke through to him. "Why not?"

Patrick fiddled with his hands before answering. "Because everything sucks." He looked up at Andy with wet eyes. "Because everything around me is falling apart, and there's nothing I can do to make it better. I can't fix it. But I feel like if I'm skinny, I'll feel better about myself."

"How's that working for you?" Andy asked. "Is starving yourself making you feel any better yet?" Patrick looked down.

"I actually think that if you eat something, you'll be stronger and you'll be able to fight whatever's against you with a lot more strength." Joe added with a slap on the back. Patrick smiled at him. His friends were the best and he loved them.

"Sorry," Patrick stuttered out. "You guys are right." He picked up his burrito. "Thanks for getting me this. I love you guys." Patrick watched his friends smile at him and look away politely before he ate. It was so weird eating after going so long fasting. He was sure that if the benzodiazepines weren't still in his system, he'd start a terrible binge sequence. Right now, keeping himself upright and awake was a difficult enough task. He couldn't really taste the food, but he was enjoying it. Patrick was grateful for the silence as they ate.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Andy asked as soon as he noticed Patrick was done. Patrick wondered how long he waited to ask that.

"Talk about what?" He knew it was pointless, but Patrick decided to play dumb to stall.

Andy was having none of it. "Patrick, you look drugged."

Joe put his fork down and turned to Patrick.

He felt himself start sweating.

Andy narrowed his eyes at him. "You're on something, aren't you?" He slammed his fist on the table; the two others jumped. "Damn it, Patrick! What did you take?" Patrick's eyes welled up with tears. "We're too mature for this now!"

"I'm sorry!" He choked.

Joe got up and crouched down next to Patrick. He wrapped his arms around his crying friend and glared at Andy. "Hey, let up. Please!"

Andy's face softened. "'Trick…"

Patrick shook his head. "No. I deserve it. I'm sorry." His words shook with his tears. He wiped them away angrily and looked up as he blinked, willing them to stop. "I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore. I've been doing it all week."

"What happened, 'Trick? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He wrapped his arms around Joe's neck as he hugged him back. "Thank you." He smiled at Joe and pushed him to go sit down, his knees were probably hurting. "I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry it's just…" his voice trailed off as he fought the returning tears. "It's just…" his shoulders began shaking violently, "Pete's been cheating on me." Patrick didn't even know when he remembered this. The words flew out of his mouth the same time the memories flew back in. He couldn't fight anymore. It was like finding out all over again. He let out a loud cry. "I don't know for how long." He buried his face in his hands and cried loudly.

Andy and Joe exchanged looks. Joe spoke up. "Um, I'm totally on your side and all, but are you sure? That doesn't sound like Pete."

"I know, I know." He wiped his eyes and looked up. "I can't blame you for being suspicious. I didn't want to believe it either. But someone he slept with confessed to me and… I shouldn't have been so oblivious."

"Someone confessed to you? But not that many people even know you two are together," Andy said. Joe looked away. It clicked for him. Andy groaned in frustration. "So it must have been someone close to you two. What a dick move! You said you had reasons to be suspicious?"

 He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "Like, Tuesday or example. I told him I was coming over to his house, but he didn't come home from 'work' until after eleven. I was so upset about… about something else he did that I didn't even think about it too much."

"So you think this has been going on for some time now?" Andy asked.

"For all I know." He sighed and laughed bitterly to himself. "I can't say I'm too surprised, really. I found out that Pete doesn't actually want me to recover. He likes me better when I'm sick."

His friends were speechless. They didn't know what to say. The Pete that Patrick was describing was far different from the Pete they knew. "So screw him!" Joe said dismissively with the bat of his hand. Patrick tilted his head in confusion. "Fuck him. If he doesn't want you to recover, then you do just that! You get all healthy and rub it in his dirty, possessive, cheating face! If he's cheating on you and derailing your recovery, the only true way to get back at him is to be the most confident Patrick Stump you can be! Flaunt around him with more confidence than a native of the Jersey shore! Show him he didn't win!"

Patrick slowly grew a large smile on his face. He felt the comforting warm feeling that came with a genuine smile; he hasn't felt it in almost a week. His eyes were tearing up again, but he wasn't fighting it this time. He was smiling at Joe, then clapping, then laughing, then crying. It was going to be hard, but he was going to do it. He was going to feel as confident and as sure of himself as he possibly could. "I love you guys!"

Andy rubbed him on the shoulder. "Well you'll love me even more after I fix your door." He stood up. "Let's get on that, shall we?" He grabbed the trash off the table, and the other two followed him inside. He dumped the take away containers in the trash while Patrick fetched the tools.

Joe and Patrick watched Ninja Turtles as Andy fixed the door. He stood up and wiped the sweat off his brow in a dramatic fashion. "All done now." The two got up and walked over to Andy by the door. Patrick took turns hugging each of them. "Don't forget," Andy said, holding him by the shoulders. "We still have practice tomorrow. It's important. We have that performance at the state fairgrounds coming up and you know how important those are."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. The whole, 'not everyone there knows about Fall Out Boy so we have to be at the top of our game' speech is worn out by now. He knows."

"Sorry, Andy. I did forget. But my studio should be fine for tomorrow. It's just…"

"You're worried about seeing Pete again." Joe finished for him. Patrick nodded. "Well he still is a member of our band. As a matter of fact, he owns our band since it's his record label, but I'm sure it'll be fine. Pete wouldn't want to sabotage his own band's success."

Patrick kicked his feet on the ground. "I can't assume anything about Pete anymore."

"It'll be okay." Andy pulled Patrick into a tight hug. He pulled away and smiled. "You're strong enough to face him. And Joe and I, we're team Patrick. We'll keep him in check."

The smile Patrick returned was weak, but he was trying. "I know you will. Thanks for everything."

Joe ruffled Patrick's hair on his way out. "Next time I see you, you better be looking sharper. Okay, man?"

Patrick laughed as he gave a fake salute. "Yes sir!" He waved to his friends. "Bye!"

The two of them waved back on the way to Andy's car and Patrick shut the door. Joe turned to Andy as soon as he got his seatbelt on. "I'm guessing you're not dropping me off at home?"

"Nope." Andy confirmed. "We're on a mission."

Joe nodded. "I'd be upset if you said anything else."

\--

The door had a 'do not disturb' sign hung on it, but Joe knocked anyway. He wasn't surprised when there wasn't a response. He knocked harder. Still no response. He started knocking as obnoxiously as he could. The door flew open.

"Do you know how to read? If you don't have an appointment—" Pete stopped mid-sentence. He felt slightly embarrassed for yelling at his friends like that.

"A little stressed out?" Andy asked with a hint of sass.

Pete shook his head and held out the door for Andy and Joe to pour in. "You wouldn't believe it." After closing it behind them, he walked back over to his desk that was covered in so much paperwork, the top wasn't even visible anymore. Andy and Joe took the two seats in front of him as he started writing aggressively, one hand propping his head up. "And I won't be in tomorrow because of practice."

Joe glanced at Pete's desk. The photos he normally kept there, save for the ones of Bronx, had been removed. Joe didn't think that it was only to make more room on his desk. "Is the company doing badly?"

"What?" Pete asked, offended. "No! DCD2 is doing great."

"Then why are you working so hard?" Andy asked.

Pete didn't look up from his work. "Because planning is so important." He rolled his chair down to the other end of his desk. Andy picked up a piece of paper out of curiosity.

"This isn't effective until seven years from now!" Pete didn't turn around; he only shrugged his shoulders. "And it's all tentative planning. What the fuck Pete? Ever heard of living in the moment?"

He still didn't turn back around, but he answered slowly. "The label is doing well for a reason." He sighed and stopped writing. "There's not too much we have complete control over in life. But I can do so much more to promote the success of this company than I can with other things. I don't want to see it fail. I'll keep making plans until I can decide on the best tactics." A thick silence came over the three.

"We know about you and Patrick," Joe let out.

The room descended into another long, uncomfortable silence. Pete sighed. He stood up and walked around his desk, past Joe and Andy. He closed the blinds and locked the door. The sounds of his footsteps back around to his office seat were loud and piercing. He lowered himself down and wiped his face. When he finally looked up at his friends, he had an aged and tired look on his face.

"Is it true?" Andy spoke to dismiss the silence.

Pete turned his head away. "You've asked nothing but questions since you got here." He slapped his hands down on his lap. "If Patrick said it, it's probably true."

This wasn't exactly what the two were expecting when they decided to confront Pete. He didn't seem like an arrogant, controlling, cheater at all. He looked more like someone at loss.

"We just got back from visiting Patrick," Andy started. "He was in really bad shape, Pete." Pete still wasn't looking at them. He swallowed hard. Andy spoke up again, "He told us that you didn't want him to recover. We didn't want to believe him, but he said you've been cheating on him." Pete looked like he was trying really hard not to cry. It was making it really difficult for Andy to be mad at him. "Pete…"

It was so quiet. A fair amount of time passed by. Pete made a sniffling sound. He slowly turned his head to his friends. He had a broken smile on his face. His nose and eyes were red and he was fighting the tears with all he had. His voice was completely cracked when he finally spoke, Andy and Joe felt it in their hearts. "He deserves someone so much better than me."

Joe knit his eyebrows. This was getting so confusing. It was evident Pete still cared about him. "You've been cheating on Patrick?"

Pete closed his eyes and shook his head. "I was—" He cut himself off and looked up. "'been'? Is that what he thinks?" He laughed in spite of himself. "I am a piece of shit, aren't I?"

Andy shrugged. "Honestly…?" Pete nodded solemnly. "But you seem like you care about him."

"I do. That's why I have to make sure he's happy, even if it's with someone else."

"But you cheated on him," Joe stated. "I'm assuming it was just once then?"

"It was once. But it doesn't matter if it was one time or a million, I still hurt him."

"Why'd you do it?" Andy still couldn't believe it, even after Pete confirmed it.

"Does it matter why? I don't want to seem like I'm excusing what I did." He dropped his head in his hands. "Patrick was really mad at me. I've been lying to him about something—it's really personal—and it blew up in my face. I came home from work late because of some marketing errors and I was helping out this janitor. It was his daughter's birthday, but that's irrelevant. I didn't know Patrick was coming over. I was late to my meeting, Patrick called, I was in a rush, the meeting was hell, and it just slipped my mind. I got home late and Patrick was pissed. He wrecked my home office and when he walked out, he told me he didn't know if he would come back." Pete sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We've been having a lot of problems lately. I called up a friend and got shit faced because I felt like shit anyway." He looked up and blinked rapidly. "I felt lonely and I missed Patrick. I thought he hated me. And…"

"The alcohol did you in, didn't it?" Andy finished for him.

"Yeah. But it's still my fault. Everything's my fault."

Joe readjusted himself in the chair. "Seems like to me that neither of you two actually want this relationship to end."

Pete shook his head. "Nah, Patrick's done with me. He made it clear when I went over to apologize."

"He's been having a really rough week." Andy suggested. "He probably wasn't thinking too clearly. Less than an hour ago, he had his first meal since Tuesday."

Pete snapped up. "No. Tuesday? Really? Fuck!" He slammed his hands down on the desk. Joe and Andy jumped. "He was asleep when I made food for him. I should have made sure he ate it. I should've woken him up. I'm terrible." He stood up and walked to the large window wall at the back of his office.

Joe leaned over to Andy's ear. "I'm crossing the anti-recovery claim off my list." Andy stood up and crossed the room to where Pete was standing. Joe followed.

His face was buried in his hands. His posture was slack and his shoulders shook. His cries were quiet, but audible. "I can't help him," Pete whispered to himself. "I'm just making things harder for him." Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he turned to Joe and Andy. "How is he doing now?"

"He was smiling by the time we left." Andy answered.

Pete turned to look out the window. He nodded. "That's good. I'm glad he's doing better now." He looked at the paperwork on his desk. "I'm not too sure I'll be able to make practice tomorrow—"

"Don't bother," Joe interrupted. "That won't pass. If you're not there, I'll be dragging your ass. And we're still a band. You'll have to face each other eventually. Better sooner than later?"

Pete chuckled. "Yeah, sooner than later for sure. I wish I had taken that advice the last time a friend told me that."

"So we'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

Andy nodded at him. "Maybe you should go home too. You should give yourself a break."

"This is my break," he said quietly. "But you're right, I probably should. I'll be packing up soon." He watched as his friends crossed the room and made their way out. Joe looked back as he left, offering Pete a weak smile, which he returned.

Pete turned back to the window and turned the blinds to look at the yellowing sky. All he could think about was Patrick. He cursed himself for not asking what Patrick ate. How much it was. If it had all the necessary food groups. He wanted to congratulate Patrick. Tell him how proud he was. He wondered if Patrick was sleeping well. If he was drinking water. If he knew when he would eat again. Pete just wanted to see him. He wanted to love him and have Patrick love him back. He didn't even know how he would show his face at Patrick's house.

He ordered a pizza to be delivered to his home on his way out. Pete drove home with the radio off. He didn't allow himself to think about anything other than the road ahead of him. He dragged himself into his home and switched into pajamas. He wasn't even fully dressed when he realized he shouldn't have asked for delivery. He could only hope that whoever was bringing the pizza to his door was some old dude that didn't even know who he was. No way was he having his address leaked on the internet.

He trotted down the steps as soon as he heard the bell ring.

"No way! It's actually Pete Wentz!" The slightly dorky looking teenaged girl with metal wire glasses, colorful braces, unmaintained hair in high pigtails, and no trace of makeup usage or a fashion sense stood before him hyperventilating uncontrollably.

Oh shit. He smiled stiffly and looked around in a joking matter. "Whoa really? Where?"

"So, when I got the order, it said it was from Pete Wentz, but like, I knew that was a joke. Cuz like, people do that all the time and stuff. So I'm like okay. No big deal. And like, I'm driving here right? And I'm like, wow, these are some nice houses. So like, I didn't want to have my hopes up because you know it could be a joke still. Like, one time these people said they were Oprah and I was all excited and stuff, but then it was just people from my school they just dumped a bucket of ice cold water with goldfish on me. It's okay though! I was just upset about the goldfish. But yeah! I figured I should be prepared in case it was you, so I brought my Take This to Your Grave CD with me. I always keep stuff like this in my car because ya know, I live in Chicago and you never know who you could meet and…" Her breathing became too interfering and Pete recognized it on the spot.

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and she looked up at him with crazy eyes. "Hey, take it easy, okay?" He offered a small smile and she returned it with a smile so taught it looked like a grimace. Pete could see the colorful rubber bands attached to her braces. Her breathing was obnoxiously loud. "Are you okay?" He asked. She nodded her head hard enough to give herself whiplash, and her pigtails flew around viciously. "Can you breathe?" He asked more directly.

"Yeah! I can! I'm doing it right now, see?" She made an odd face as he took fast breaths in and out her mouth.

Pete sighed. He wanted to run his hand down his face, but he didn't want to be rude. "Um, okay. Look…"

"Beatrice!" He pointed to her name tag.

"Yes, Beatrice," She squealed when he said her name. "Do you have asthma? Do you need to take an inhaler?"

"No!" She blurted out pointlessly. Pete gave a knowing look. "You… you'll think I'm a big dork…"

He couldn't stifle the laugh. "I won't think you're a dork." She didn't seem convinced. He crossed a finger over his heart. "Promise."

Beatrice had a skeptical look on her face, but she dug her hand into her oversized, worn looking, kaki capris and pulled out her inhaler. She turned around as she took the dose and shoved it back into her pocket.

Pete smiled at her. She was odd, but a bit endearing. "Do you want to come in and sit for a minute?"

She pouted. "I'm a big loser. I don't belong in a cool person's house."

"Aw, I don't think you're a loser at all." He turned to the side and gestured into his house. She wiped her feet on the doormat before stepping inside reluctantly. "You know," Pete told her, gesturing for her to sit down on the couch, "My best friend has asthma." He felt his heart break a bit as he said those words. But he did want to comfort Beatrice.

She looked confused. "Your best friend…" Her jaw dropped into a dramatic 'o' shape. "Patrick?"

"Yeah he does." He smiled. She was funny.

"But he sings!"

Pete looked up and scratched his stubble. "Huh yeah, that is kinda weird… but it's also pretty rad right?" She bobbed her head again as she nodded. "But you don't think Patrick's a dork do you?"

She shook her head in the same violent manner that she nodded with. "No way! Patrick is super cool!"

He held his arms out as he shrugged. "Then you're super cool too."

Beatrice looked down at her hands nervously. "But Patrick has friends and people like him. He could pick his nose and still be cool."

Pete scoffed to himself, 'or he could slap the fuck out of your dick and you're still head over heels for him' he said internally. "Do you want a glass or water or something?"

She shook her head and bounced up to her feet. She half-dashed over to the mantle place. "Are these pictures of you and Patrick?"

Well the fuck else would they be? Pete was a little nervous. The pictures he kept in his house were more romance than bromance. "Yep. And this is Bronx when he was a baby." He tried to divert her attention with the other photographs. She wasn't falling for it.

"You two look so close! I wish I had a BFF!"

He offered a light laugh. "Aw come on, you must have at least one friend!"

"Nope!" It kinda hit Pete's heart the way she said it. Like it was something she had already accepted by now. "I don't have any friends. Well no, I have my dog, Sallie. She's a Labrador! But she's more like family so that doesn't count. But then again, my brother doesn't hang out with me… Oh wait! I do have friends!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But they all live really far away so I can only talk to them on the internet."

"But what about at school? Who do you talk to?"

"I talk to my internet friends. This is my last semester at public school though. I have to be homeschooled now." She leaned in and opened her eyes wide like she was telling a deep secret. She tapped her head and said, "The docs think it's bad for my mental health."

"Oh…" Pete scratched his head. "I bet the kids at school are real rough. Maybe taking some time to yourself will be beneficial."

She looked genuinely sad and Pete couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He remembers Dallon telling him about how talking to his fans gives him 'dad vibes' and Pete wondered if this is what he meant. "I'm sorry! I almost forgot my job! She pulled the pizza box out of the bag and shoved it at Pete. "Here you go!"

"Um, don't I have to pay you first?"

"Oh right! Sorry!"

Pete chucked as he pulled his wallet from the pocket in this flannel pajama pants. "So how do you like it?"

"Your house is amazing!"

He laughed. "No, silly. How is being a pizza delivery girl?"

"Oh! I don't really know, it's kinda scary cuz you never know who's gonna open the door and stuff. But my mom says it's a good job for me because I don't have to talk to people like in customer service jobs or teamwork jobs, but I still get to see people so I'm not working in a back room all by myself!"

He handed her two fifty dollar bills. Pete didn't know how much the pizza actually cost. "But you can't really get better at communicating if you don't put yourself out there. Look, you were so nervous when we first started talking, but you're much calmer now. I actually think putting yourself in an environment that you're a little uncomfortable with will beneficial to your health."

"That sounds true, but I not very good at interviews. Especially compared to all the pretty and popular people." She traded the pizza for Pete's bills and had a look of awe and confusion on her face when she stared up at him. What a tip!

"That's the interviewers fault. They shouldn't judge a book by its cover, or even by the preface. I think you're really rad. Do you have a pen?" She whipped out a red pen with Hello Kitty's head on the top. Pete gave a little chuckle at the pen before turning over his customer receipt and writing on the back of it. "You're still in school now, but on your last day before you start homeschooling, you should call this number. The office closes at five so you'll have to be out of school first. Just say you were Beatrice from the pizza delivery." He handed her the paper. "It's going to be a little more difficult, especially because you'll be schooling on your own, but I think you can do well. You seem very resilient."

Beatrice only seemed confused. "This is your office number?" He nodded. "You want me to work there?" Another nod. Beatrice looked excited. She opened her mouth wide to accept the offer, but then she suddenly had a glum look on her face. "I—I can't! It's too nerve-wracking."

"How about this then, I'll won't sign your CD cover until the first day of work."

She opened her mouth and closed it a few times. After contemplating it for a few moments, she jumped with excitement. "Okay! Yes! I'll do it!" Pete smiled and tentatively held his arms out for a hug. She body slammed into him and almost knocked him off of this feet. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

Pete patted her back in hopes to end the hug. "Okay. It's no big deal really."

She pulled away with her eyes huge and lit up. "Will I be able to meet Patrick?"

"Maybe. You'll probably end up seeing a lot of cool people."

She smiled for a few moments before paling. "I have to go! I almost forgot my schedule!" She dashed to the door and took one last look back on her way out. "Thank you for everything! Enjoy your pizza!"

Pete waved back. "I will thanks. Don't forget." With that, she closed the door and dashed out to her car.

Sighing, Pete took his pizza upstairs to his bedroom. "You did good, Pete," He told himself. He placed the pizza box on his bed and turned to his mirror. "You did good." He forced himself to smile at his reflection. It did feel nice to help people out. Especially people like Beatrice who needed a lot of help. He saw a bit of himself in her. Picking up his laptop, he sat on his bed and propped it up. He took a slice of pizza. All he wanted to do was help people. Patrick in particular, he's helped Pete countless times. But he felt so useless when Patrick kicked him out and got himself in an even worse condition. He failed to help Patrick, Andy and Joe could, but he only made the situation worse. He gave Beatrice a job without even thinking what positon to hire her as, yet it was just what he felt like he should have done.

Logging in to his computer, he pulled up Twitter. He typed in "Q&A?" and waited for the questions to roll in. They would provide a useful distraction as he tried to enjoy his pizza.

The questions were how he expected, but for some reason, reading them hurt. There was a fair amount of "Why did Patrick leave twitter?" questions as always. Pete rolled his eyes. 'Because you kept saying rude things to him. He's sensitive,' he said to himself. Then there some people who asked if he would could come to x location. The fair share of hate from people who had too much time on their hands, the shippers, and people who wanted to know some uncomfortably personal questions. He answered a few and laughed at the cute and funny little questions.

He answered questions until he finished about half of his pizza and his eyelids were getting heavy. Yawning, he took the pizza down into his kitchen and put it in the freezer. He returned to his room, bid goodnight to his fans, took his night-time bipolar medications, and rolled into bed.

Pete couldn't fall asleep. He couldn't get comfortable enough, he was too hot, and his clothes were pulling uncomfortably. His mind was racing. He could only think of one thing and it was a list of potential ways that he could help Patrick. He wanted to see gratitude on Patrick's face when he looked up at him.

The last time Patrick looked at him, his eyes were filled with hate and resentment.

Pete continued to toss and turn all night. He kept glancing at the clock occasionally. He decided it wasn't helping when he read 3:00. In the midst of his stress, he decided to actively think of things non-Patrick related. He thought about Bronx and how big he was getting; he was so cute. He loved super heroes. Pete forced himself to think about which toys he would buy for the growing boy. He sort of wished that it was his turn to watch over Bronx, but at the same time, he was glad he didn't have to work on a fake smile for his boy every day. Still, Bronx loved staying over. He liked playing with Pete and playing with the instruments, and being held by Uncle Patrick, and—shit.

Letting out a frustrated scream, he flopped around onto his other side and pulled his hands to his ears. Pete had his eyes screwed shut and pushed tears away as he tried to breathe steadily. He kept saying "It's fine, everything will be fine" over and over again in a forced whisper through gritted teeth. Why weren't his medications working?

Pete let his eyes fly open and his vision darted around the room as he searched for some kind of distraction. His sights landed on his keys on his nightstand.

One of the keys stood out to him; it happened to be the one key seemingly on its own as all the others grouped together. He recognized it in an instant. It was the key to Patrick's house allowing him to walk in or out at any given time. He also knew Patrick had the key to his home as well. None of the other band members exchanged keys.

Pete sighed and pulled himself onto his back. He let out a deep sigh. He'd have to return the key first thing tomorrow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF only eating disorders and body dysmorphia could be solved so easily lol. But this story does need to advance so~
> 
> I AM MAKING SUCH GOOD PROGRESS WITH THIS STORY YOU GUYS. I AM CREI. I hope to have it done soooooon. You guys don't know this, but this is the earliest I've ever uploaded a chapter, it's only like 8pm!! I'm actually awake! I proofread again too! I don't think you know how not kidding I am when I say that I am LITERALLY falling asleep when I upload these. No exaggeration. I am literally fighting to keep my eyes open most of the time. BUT NOW I'M AHEAD OF SCHEDULE AND WOWWOWOW!!
> 
> Andy finally comes around!! Yaay! Also, you may have noticed the tag update, but yes!! Meagan Camper will be in this story! She has a super super minor part, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> AND DON'T FORGET TO PICK UP YOUR FREE FIC!! Why hasn't anyone requested any?? ;^; Please!! I don't want to have to cancel the event!
> 
> Thanks so much! <3
> 
> [My blog](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/) |[contact me](mailto:therealtrashqueen@gmail.com?Subject=Hey%20I%20found%20you%20on%20AO3) |[get a free fic](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/post/144081720015/summer-of-sin-event-get-a-free-fic-this-summer)


	5. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete returns Patrick's house key and then asks Patrick to sing a song after practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm back. Sorry for the unexpected delay, but as seen on my blog, I'm having some medication related issues and I was fighting a depression relapse. I think it's under control now. This all sucks because I was ahead of schedule before and now I'm waaaaay behind. I proofread this but I was falling asleep as usual so I'm sure there's a million things I didn't catch. I'm so tired :(
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me for all this. I'm sorry these chapters are short and I'm sorry I didn't have this done in a week like I planned, but I wasn't feeling well. I think I'm getting better. I hope! I love all you so much. Your support means so much to me, like you have no idea! I do this for you all and I hope you enjoy this second-to-last chapter.

Band practice wasn't until two that afternoon, but Pete rolled into Patrick's driveway around seven am. It was no question that Patrick was asleep at this time. He parked the car and jogged up to Patrick's front door. As he jimmied the key in the lock, he thought about his plan and how this would be the last time he would do this. He was going to place the key in an obvious place that Patrick could easily see. No note, no requirement for Patrick to return his, Pete would only be resigning himself of his own ability to walk into Patrick's home whenever he wanted. As he was pressing the key to the wood of Patrick's coffee table, he thought about how he would dash out without leaving any other sign that he was here. What Pete wasn't expecting, was a fully dressed Patrick rounding the corner.

"Ah!" Patrick jumped back in initial shock. He held a hand up to his chest as he attempted to catch his breath. He focused his gaze and adjusted his glasses, finally acknowledging that he was probably not in danger. But he was upset. "Pete? What are you doing here? What…? Why are you in my house?"

He held his hands up defensively and his eyes flew open wide. His heart rate quickened. This was not supposed to happen. Patrick was not supposed to be up at seven am. Ever. "I'm… I’m leaving. I'm just returning this." He nervously gestured his hands to the key on the coffee table.

Pete couldn't quite read the look on Patrick's face. "Oh," he said somewhat blankly.

After fidgeting nervously for a few moments, Pete turned to leave. "Well, okay. Sorry. I guess I should get going now."

"No wait!" Patrick called out. When Pete turned around and looked at him, it was clear his mouth spoke before his brain had time to process anything. Lowering his voice, Patrick spoke again with a cautious tone. "You don't have to leave. Um," He played nervously at the fedora on his head. "You can stay. Unless you have somewhere else to be."

Pete blinked in confusion. The last time he was in Patrick's house, the man was screaming at him, practically throwing him out. Now he was begging him to stay? "No, I don't have anywhere to be. I could stay for a while." He scratched at his head as he spoke.

"Okay. Sit." Patrick patted the sofa. He walked around it to sit and watched as Pete did the same. The distance between them on the two seater was notably unusual. Patrick fiddled with his hands a little before looking up at Pete. He struggled to keep eye contact and his smile twitched continuously. "We… we're in this band together. We have practice today and things can't be too awkward between us."

"Oh yeah, totally understood." Pete shot back an identical forced on smile and they both nodded at each other with the stupid smiles on their faces. "Uh," He ran his hand through his hair. "You're up pretty early today."

Patrick laughed, and even though it was forced, awkward, and fake, the sound still managed to break Pete's heart. "Yeah, I guess I am. I have to run some errands. Mostly food shopping."

Pete smiled and huffed disbelievingly. "You—you are? That's great, Patrick!" He gripped at the fabric of his own jeans at his knees. "I'm so proud of you."

The look Patrick gave him was unexpected. It was somewhere between shock, relief, and something else unreadable. He sighed and smiled weakly. "I knew you would be."

"Thanks for telling me that." Pete smiled earnestly. Patrick blinked blankly in confusion. "I know you're a pretty private person. And it must have been nerve wracking for you to say that after… well… you know. I feel honored."

Patrick knitted his eyebrows together and swallowed hard. The smile on Pete's face made him remember everything he loved about the man. He briefly wondered why there was this tension between them. He just wanted to scoot in closer on the couch and lean on Pete's chest as he wrapped his arms around him and close his eyes as Pete messed with his hair. He couldn't remember what he was holding back for. He was so happy when he was with Pete; it was all sunshine and smiles. Why did he create this wall between them?

But for as much as he wanted to fly into Pete's arms, he wouldn't let himself do it. Pete cheated on him. He hurt him.

Pete's smile dropped. He could see Patrick visibly tensing up again. His mind searched frantically for something to change the topic to. "Um, so what have you been up to lately? I mean, it's been a while since we've talked and…"

"I almost killed myself actually." He replied quickly with a unique mixture of blankness and sass.

So much for keeping things from being awkward. Pete let out a huff of air in exasperation as he brought his hands up and dropped them on his thighs. "I got the message. Joe and Andy stopped by my office." His face softened and he looked at Patrick earnestly. "I'm just so relieved that you're still here."

The bitch face that Patrick returned with held the sadness in his eyes.

"Don't be like that." Pete raised his eyebrows and pushed them together. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I just…" He held his hand to his heart and pulled in a deep breath before looking up at Patrick again with burning eyes. "You know that I care about you. I know we're trying not to make this awkward or anything, but I still love you. You know that. It won't just disappear in an instant, Patrick. I can't imagine my life without you."

He dropped his head down and ran his hand down his face. Patrick exhaled a shaky breath. When he looked up, his face and eyes were red. His voice couldn't stop wobbling as he spoke. "You did a pretty good job of imagining your life without me when you were fucking Brendon."

Pete's jaw dropped in disbelief. He understood he hurt Patrick, but he wasn't even trying to look at this from another angle. He just didn't want to see Pete's side. It was like he just wanted this relationship to end.

Standing up abruptly, Pete got up and started marching to the door. He stopped midway when he heard Patrick standing up and running after him. Without turning around, he said. "Why do you keep bringing this up? I'm sorry. I wish I could take it all back."

"Well you can't."

"I know!" Pete shouted. He turned around with force. His eyes were brimmed with tears and Patrick looked taken aback. This was the second time Pete raised his voice at him in less than a week. And it was a scream; a voice tearing screech. "I know! I know I can't take it back, Patrick! I'd rather fucking kill myself than do something like that to you again. I—" He paused and lowered his voice as he narrowed his eyes. "I want to kill myself. But I'm fighting it. I'm fighting it because every day I'm alive is another day I get to see you. Even if you hate me, it's worth it."

Patrick marched right up to his face. "Well I do hate you!" He shouted.

"You don't mean that!" He shouted back.

"I hate you!"

"No you don't!" He pulled one side of his mouth into a small smile. "You're mad and upset. You're overcome by your emotions. But deep down you know you don't hate me. We've been through so much together." He held his hands out for Patrick to hold on. "Let's get through his together too? I don't expect you to just forgive me, but please! Let's stop pushing each other away."

Time seemed to slow down as Pete widened into a full smile. His heart was pounding almost painfully in his chest as he kept his hands out, praying silently that Patrick would grip them. Patrick looked afraid in his confliction. His eyes were open wide and he was breathing heavily through his mouth.

Pete's chest twisted; he saw the decision being made in Patrick's eyes.

"I hate you!"

"Pa—"

He couldn’t get the rest of whatever he was going to say out. Patrick drew back his arm and delivered a sharp undercut to Pete's stomach—absolutely no holds.

Without a word, Pete gripped his abdomen and slowly collapsed to the ground. He held himself tightly in a ball with his eyes screwed shut for a few seconds. Pete sucked in a loud inhale through his mouth and coughed out a few drops of blood. After taking a few more moments to regain his composure, he looked up at Patrick with his face as red as it could get, burning eyes, and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Hit me again."

Patrick was standing up with his hands in fists down by his sides, looking down at Pete basically crumpled on the ground. And he wanted to be hit again? Patrick covered his ears and shook his head violently. "No!" He began to really cry.

"Hit me!" Pete shouted angrily.

"No! I can't!" Patrick's sobs were audible and his gasping started to impact his speech. "I don't… I don't want to!"

Pete tried to push himself up, but he grimaced and fell down again. This was going to leave a serious bruise. It would be fair to say Patrick had never hit anything this hard before in his entire life. He was hoping that there wasn't any internal bleeding. "Just hit me, please!"

The tears were streaming down Patrick's face as he threw his arms out. "I can't! Look at you!"

Just now, when he felt the wetness on his cheeks, Pete realized he was crying too. "But I want you to!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why not?" Pete yelled with powerfully. He said it slowly and clearly with precision in each vowel.

A short silence fell upon the two.

"Because I don't want to hurt you anymore! Fuck!" He angrily wiped at his tears. "Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you so hard."

"Bullshit!" Pete screamed. He spit blood out of his mouth. He was praying that there wasn't any real damage. Who taught Patrick how to hit? "You would have hit me harder if you could." Patrick's eyes shied away in guilt. "Didn't it feel good to just hit me like that? Why don't you do it again?"

"I don't want to, Pete! I'm sorry!"

Shaking his head, Pete rose up on wobbly legs. He put a firm hand on the couch to keep him upright. "Saying sorry won't make the jab hurt any less, Patrick."

"I know that." He hung his head in shame.

Pete spoke quietly. "Why did you do it?"

"Be-because I was so mad." He didn't raise his eyes as he spoke. "I-I just… I was so mad at you. I'm so upset, Pete. I wasn't thinking clearly. I—" His voice hitched. He knew where Pete was going with this. Slowly, his eyes drifted up into Pete's broken gaze.

Pete pursed his lips. Closing his eyes nodded. "No. It doesn't compare." Biting back the pain, which was beginning to subdue, he turned around and headed to the door with a slight limp.

"Um…" Patrick stepped forward tentatively with his shaky hand outstretched. When Pete turned around to look at him, he closed up and fidgeted with his hands drawn to his chest. "Pete wait… I uh… maybe you should stay for a while and recover a bit. I… I have a heating pad you can use uh…"

Offering a sad smile, Pete shook his head. "No, I think I overstayed my welcome. You have to go shopping before practice later anyway."

Patrick bit his bottom lip and nodded. If he was being completely honest with himself, he would admit that he wished Pete could go shopping with him. Patrick felt nervous buying groceries alone. He was worried that he would only buy safe foods like rice cakes and light soups or buy exclusively binge food and laxatives. Pete made sure he got all the necessary food groups, and when he was with Pete, he didn't think too much about people judging his purchase. But he doesn't feel comfortable letting Pete back into this part of his life yet. "You're right. I'll see you soon then?" Patrick's eyes flickered to the keys on the table. He would have to let Pete into his house from now on.

Pete offered an empty chuckle. "Yeah, I'll be back for practice." He stepped to the doorway and turned around before leaving. "So cordial then? No awkwardness?"

He returned the vacant smile. "None. We are a band after all."

With one last forced smile, Pete ducked out the doorway.

\--

"You can't make me." Andy folded his arms as Patrick stood in front of the drum set. Patrick was shifting his weight from foot to foot with a pleading smile on his face.

"Come on, Andy! It's a public event and you know what that means!" He raised his voice few pitches and mocked his friend's voice. "'There will be plenty of people who don't know about Fall Out Boy and we have to make a good impression on potential fans!' You could scare them away!"

"Okay first of all!" Andy tapped a drumstick on Patrick's knuckles.

"Ow!"

"I don't sound like that! Second, it's summer! It's too damn hot to wear a shirt!"

Patrick toyed with his guitar strap. "I always wear a shirt—and a hat—and I'm fine."

Joe looked up from tuning his guitar. "You sweat a lot though."

He looked back at Joe with his mouth agape shock. "Whose side are you on? I never asked for your opinion!"

"But!" Joe strummed out a note as he spoke. "I always wear a shirt too and you really should. We have to look appropriate for the event."

Andy seemed genuinely upset. "Joe, I trusted you." Joe only shrugged and directed his attention back to fingering his notes and shadow strumming. "Okay… well, Pete! Are you wearing a shirt? Do you think I have to wear one?"

Pete snapped out of his trance. He was writing down notes for the show when Andy pulled him into the present. "Ah-?" Pete made the 'sips-tea-none-of-my-business' gesture and turned back around on his heels.

"Pete!" Patrick yelled at him with hands on his hips. "You are not sipping your tea out of this one. Tell Andy you're wearing a shirt and that he needs to wear one too."

"Andy, you're wearing a shirt and that he needs to wear one too."

"Haha!" Joe laughed and made finger pistols as Pete took a bow for his stupid joke.

Patrick stomped and rolled his eyes. "Not funny!" He folded his arms and crossed over to begin collapsing the mic. "Okay fine! I don't even care anymore!" He turned around and hit Andy with the Famous Stump Puppy Eyes.

Andy reached into the pockets of his cargo shorts and pulled on his sunglasses in retort. "Just shading out the hate!" Patrick's look switched to shock. "That look stopped working on me when you told me to hang tight for a few minutes and you would come back to pick me up with the bus. I was left in Venice for three days!"

"That was one time!"

"Well actually!"

The conversation was losing its lightness. Pete could tell Andy was becoming genuinely upset. "How about this," He got the attention of the entire band, including Joe who was becoming visibly uncomfortable with the drama. "We can wear our old incorrect name shirts. The fans will be really happy to see those again."

Andy scoffed. "Except that this is an open performance. New comers will be confused."

"But maybe Pete's on the right path here." Joe offered. "If you're going to be forced to wear a shirt, we should make it fun."

A mischievous smile appeared on Andy's face and the other three internally ate their words. "I still have my 'I'm the drummer' shirt. Do you guys still have the shirts you wore to that party?"

Pete groaned. As a joke for one of Andy's birthdays a few years back, they all dressed up in women's tees that read 'I'm with the drummer' in rhinestone text and adorned with glitter hearts. Patrick paled.

Joe on the other hand shot both fists straight up into the air. "Hell yeah! I've been waiting for the next opportunity to wear that!"

"Okay, so it's settled then?" Patrick asked. "But although, I wonder if it's a better idea for you to just be shirtless then. This was all because we didn't want people to get the wrong impression of our band."

"Speak for yourself, Stump." Joe said. He propped his arm on Patrick's head and leaned over him, effectively taking advantage of their height difference. "You brought this upon yourself. And I get to crack out that shirt again."

Looking at his bandmates with an honest smile, Pete remembered how much he loved all of these guys. They are a huge part of his life and he is grateful for each of them. "Oh," he got the band's attention and glanced down at his notes. "Does anybody need any props? We could check storage for some balls or steamers. Or if Joe wants to wield the t-shirt cannon again, we can do that.

"Veto for Joe on the cannon." Andy objected with his hand raised. "Patrick narrowly escaped with his life last time."

"I second that motion." Patrick chimed as he stepped out from under Joe's arm.

Pete offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Joe. Maybe another time?"

He gave a sigh and the typical 'Joe shrug'. "It's all good. I had fun while it lasted. But I definitely want streamers." Joe folded his arms and looked blissfully off into the distance. "The kids always get such wild looks on their faces when I throw the streamers at them."

The rest of the band looked at him blankly.

"Well okay then." Andy stood up from his drum stool. "Guess we know what Joe's secret kink is."

"I'll put a request in for the streamers then." Pete jotted down the note with a slightly amused look on his face.

"As much as I'd love to stay for our regular post practice chit-chat, qualifiers are coming around the corner and my squad needs to get their shit."

"You say that every year man!" Patrick patted his friend on the shoulder. "When is qualifiers? I'll come out and show my support for the best CrossFit team to ever exist."

"It's the last Saturday this month." Andy shoved his hands into his shorts and shrugged as he spoke. "But I doubt you need to come out. I don't want you guys to see me lose."

"Andy don't sweat it!" Joe said. "You guys always make qualifiers. It's normally reginal or semi where you lose and go home sad."

Andy gave him a sweet bitch face. "Where would I be without a friend like you?"

Joe wrapped his arm around Andy's neck. "At home because I drove your sorry ass."

"Sometimes I forget you two even have different cars." Patrick commented.

Joe pulled his arm back and shrugged. He removed his guitar from his neck and walked over to the case. "We live so close that not carpooling would be strange." He zipped up the case and slung it over his shoulders. "But I'm not looking forward to waiting around at the gym while this lunk shows off." Andy gave him a look crossed between pissed off and apologetic. Joe looked away. "But at least I'll for sure get work done."

Andy walked up and gave a semi suffocating hug to Patrick. "Good practice, Stump." He turned around and gave a hug to Pete, but he pinched and pulled at one of Pete's cheeks like an annoying grandmother afterwards.

"Ow!" Pete rubbed at the sore spot on his face while looking at Andy with his eyebrows pushed up and together.

Joe followed Andy with the hugs and gave both of this friends excessively hard pats on the back with each one. "I'm genuinely surprised that practice went so smoothly today," Joe commented vaguely. Both Joe and Andy had braced themselves for an awkward, stand-offish practice. Nobody brought up any of the events that happened earlier this week, and the tension was minimal to say the most. "I guess I'll see you both next practice then." Joe waved at Pete and Patrick before turning to head up the stairs.

With a somewhat threatening look, Andy pointed at the other two. "Keep me posted, okay?" Patrick nodded and Andy waved to the two of them. "Stay out of trouble." With that, he headed up and out after Joe.

Pete shoved his hands and turned to Patrick with a sheepish look on his face. "So…"

Patrick pulled a stiff smile and began packing up his equipment. It was like someone had flipped on the awkward tension switch. "Too bad you missed out on the _Strings Limited_ order. Good stuff." Patrick did his best to resurrect the atmosphere with small talk.

"That so?"

"Yeah."

Patrick finished putting his guitar away. He turned to Pete who was rocking on his heels nervously.

"Sorry, I'll get out of your hair soon." It was so weird feeling like a guest in Patrick's house after all these years. He walked over to his case where his bass was zipped inside and stopped mid-step. "But uh, before I go…"

"Yeah?" Patrick looked more concerned than upset. He didn't want Pete to leave right now either.

Turning around, he nervously rubbed at his short, bleached hair. "I hate to be "that fan", but… are you taking any requests right now?" He let out a small, hesitant smile.

Patrick giggled in the soft and musical way that made Pete fall in love with him a long time ago. "I guess that depends on what the request is." He looked up at Pete and smiled with a twinkle in his eye.

Pete didn't answer. He let out a small laugh and hung his head. Stepping around Patrick, he sat at the keyboard and patted the empty spot next to him at the bench.

He walked over to Pete, but stopped right before sitting down. Pete saw it in his eyes. The hesitation. He saw as Patrick's anxiety started running. Won't fit on the bench; not enough space for his fat thighs. Even if he squeezes himself in, Pete won't have enough room. He could just break the entire bench with his weight. Patrick's eyes were empty as his thoughts took him into another world.

Pete didn't waver. He kept his warm smile up with the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. He patted the seat lightly; the motion of his hand rising and falling on the bench brought Patrick back to the present.

They locked eyes, but Pete didn't push anything on him. He only held his smile. He did his best not to let it widen or show any other visible change in his demeanor when Patrick stretched out a smile and sat down next to him.

"What do you want me to sing, Pete?"

"It's an old one that I can't get out of my head. I'm hoping that hearing you sing it will rid me of having it playing on repeat forever." Pete took a deep breath and started keying out the first few notes. "I'm not as good as you at piano."

That didn't matter. Patrick knew which song it was right away.

"And I only know the bassline since it's been so long." He laughed a bit. "Maybe you can pick up the melody for me?"

It wasn't hard for Patrick to remember the melody because the same song has been stuck in his head too.

_"I'm sleeping my way out of this one, with anyone who will lie down.”_

Patrick sung the song the same way Pete expected him to. It wasn't with the same jumpy, rock energy that they always played it in. He sung it as a ballad. It was still powerful and full of energy, but it was also calming and emotional. He sang it in a sweet adagio and each note he pressed on the keyboard was laced with feeling.

_"I'll be stuck fixated on one star,"_

He slowly turned his head to look at Pete with glistening eyes as he sang.

_"When the world is crashing down."_

In his deep, slightly gravelly voice, Pete sung the backup parts for Patrick in their ballad cover of a Fall Out Boy song.

_"I keep telling myself_  
I keep telling myself  
I'm not the desperate type  
But you've got me looking in through blinds"

Patrick sniffled. He had stopped looking at Pete during the chorus and when he looked up again, he had tears rolling down his cheeks. Pete didn't notice how wet his own eyes were until Patrick looked at him again. His fingers were shaky, but he made sure to keep support on the bass while Patrick fervently keyed out the melody.

_"I'm sitting out dances on the wall_  
Trying to forget everything that isn't you  
I'm not going home alone  
Cause I don't do too well.  
I'm sitting out dances on the wall  
Trying to forget everything that isn't you  
I'm not going home alone  
Cause I don't do too well on my own.

At this point, Patrick's sobs became audible. He was choking on his tears. It went from having to take a breath and swallow between each line to gasping. Patrick heaved deeply and sniffled to prepare himself for the next part, but his voice hitched and he feel short.

"Pat—"

_"The only thing worse than not knowing  
Is you thinking that—"_

Patrick withdrew his hands from the keyboard sharply like he had been burned. He was crying hard. His sobs came out in sharp cries and he clutched his hands to his chest.

Pete felt awful. He loved Patrick, but he was always making him cry.

"'Trick, I'm so sorry. You don't have to finish singing."

"No!" Patrick flipped his head up to Pete and glared at him angrily. "No, you asked me to sing it. I have to finish it for you. I want to! Just…" He let out a few more cries and deep breath. "Just give me a second. I haven't sang this song in a long time." He wiped at his tears angrily with his cardigan covered hands and took a sharp inhale. Patrick breathed out a long blow through his mouth. With new determination and strength, he finished the song.

He finished it strong and firm. He may have appeared angry, but he was very determined and passionate. It took the wind out of him and he was nearly out of breath when he finished. Still huffing lightly, he looked up at Pete.

"Atavan Halen, huh?"

Pete suppressed a frown to smile at him. "Seven Minutes in Heaven is an old song that I rarely hear about anymore."

"Why'd you pick it?"

"Because…" Pete folded his hands in his lap and looked up at the ceiling. "Because these few minutes I had with you where we were civil to each other and practiced together with our friends and we laughed and it was so great… it was wonderful. And sometimes, especially this week, great moments like that is the only thing keeping me here."

"Pete…"

"It's almost been twelve years, Patrick. In a few weeks it will be exactly twelve years from the day you saved my life when I threw it away. My meds are better, things are brighter, and I'm more mature, but I still feel those thoughts sometimes." Pete screwed his eyes shut he took a sharp inhale. When he opened his eyes he grabbed Patrick's hands and looked him forcefully in the eyes. "Patrick I love you. And I don't mean exclusively in the romantic sense. I love you. You're a part of me and I need you. Patrick, I love you so much."

Patrick's heart felt swollen. Pete's been suffering so much. Yes, he hurt Patrick, but Patrick couldn't help himself from feeling guilty. He was being selfish. Pete is bipolar and he needs care the same way that Patrick does with his eating disorder. It's different types of care, but Patrick wasn't even thinking about Pete. He admitted to himself that he was being incredibly ablest towards the struggling man who cared so much about him and had to deal with his own demons as well.

"Pete, I am so, so, so sorry." Pete opened his mouth to shush Patrick, but before he could interrupt, Patrick continued speaking. "No, Pete. I am really sorry. I've been thinking about nobody but myself. You've been hurting so bad and I haven't been taking any care for you at all. I think we've both been kinda lost in our own illnesses. I'm sorry I haven't been as open to what you've been going through.

"I've been so difficult. I blew everything up into more than it had to be. I should have tried to understand you Tuesday night. I fucking wrecked your house; I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have fallen into starving myself—I could have put up more of a fight. I'm really not dismissing the cheating, but I really should have thought about your struggles more. I didn't even look to see how you were doing." He took a shaky breath and squeezed Pete's hands before slowly lifting his eyes to Pete's. "I love you. I love you, and I'm sure I always will."

Pete ran his hands up Patrick's arms and gripped his biceps. "I love you too." He was shaking slightly as his eyes welled up with tears, his lips trembling. His hands dropped to the bench and Patrick quickly gripped them again.

"Let's just please… stop hurting each other." Patrick fought out a sad smile. He was still crying, but for the first time all this week, he didn't feel sad as the tears made their way down his cheek. This hell of a week where he thought that his eyes would eventually just dry up and crack with how often he fell to tears, and it finally brought him to a point where he's been happier than he's been in months. He was crying, but he was also smiling and laughing as he held hands with the man that means everything to him. He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "And let's listen to Andy for once; no more alcohol? At least not when I'm not around?"

Squeezing his boyfriend's hands tighter, Pete's teary, warm smile widened. "No more alcohol."

Patrick beamed a tight smile back up at him. "Okay. Good."

They lingered there on the bench for a few moments longer, just staring into each other's eyes. They were away from the world. Nothing else seemed to matter as they basked in each other's presence.  It wasn't just love that they were looking at each other with, but also a rare type of fondness. Pete ran his hands up to Patrick's biceps again. He gave a soft grip before gently letting his hands roam to Patrick's back. Patrick's smile twitched wider as he let himself be pulled into the hug.

Pete always thought it was amazing how something as simple and common as a hug could have so much feeling in it. But then again, everything was always different with Patrick. Pulling away, he lightly brushed at Patrick's hair on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Hey, I'm going to head out soon. Will you be okay?"

Patrick closed his eyes. "I'll be fine. I know you're still here."

He let out a small, closed-lipped laugh. Patrick could be so cute at times. "Call me when you need help, okay?"

Nodding, he opened his eyes slowly. "Okay. I'll be fine Pete."

"I know you will." He swung his legs around the bench and stood up. He offered his hands to Patrick and pulled him up as well. "I just worry." He walked around Patrick to his bass. He picked the case up and hauled it over his back.

"Do you have time to come over tomorrow?" Patrick asked shyly. He hadn't moved from where he was standing at the Piano.

Pete walked over to him and cupped Patrick's cheeks in his hands. "I'd love to, Patty-Cakes, but I have executive conferences tomorrow. I won't be out until five."

Patrick was upset by the news, and despite some efforts, he did a rather bad job hiding his disappointment. "But you won't be working from home right? You'll be free afterwards?"

"Yes, dear. I'll be free." Pete dropped his hands back down to his sides. "And besides, I don't have a home office to work in anymore." He made a sheepish smile at that as he wondered if that was an appropriate joke to make.

"Oh yeah," Patrick scratched at his head in embarrassment. "Sorry about that again. Wait, you haven't picked it up yet?"

He shook his head slowly. "Haven't even tried."

"I'm sorry, Pete. That's not healthy, you know."

"I don't have to worry about that now though." He laughed quietly.

"I think you should think about that, actually."

Pete hummed lightly. "Well, I guess I better head off then." He kissed Patrick lightly on the forehead. "See you tomorrow."

Patrick pulled him in for a tight, but brief, hug. "See you tomorrow."

As Pete approached the steps out of the basement, Patrick called to him. He turned around and halted his actions.

"Don't forget," Patrick started, but he didn't say anything else. He just held a half closed fist near his mouth and made the obscene hand movements with this fist and tongue. "I owe you one."

Shaking his head as he chuckled, Pete turned back around and started up the stairs. "No way could I forget that." He landed at the top of the stairway and routed himself to the entry room. Before Pete got there, he decided to take a short detour to the kitchen. With his bass slung around his back, Pete snuck around as quickly as he could and took full inventory of Patrick's food items. He shook his head in disappointment as he searched. Patrick just went out today so his kitchen should be properly stocked, but the poor man didn't know how to buy food. It was 60% safe food and 40% binge food. He didn't have all the necessary food groups either. Pete pulled out his phone and took pictures of the fridge and cupboards as quickly as he could.

On his way back to his car, he surveyed the photos briefly and decided that once he got home, he would compose a proper list of things to buy. "Shit," he retorted aloud. He didn't have Patrick's key anymore. He wouldn't be able to sneak the groceries into Patrick's home. Pete sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket as he slid into his car. He would either have to find a way to sneak the food in, or have an upfront conversation with Patrick about nutritional shopping.

It wouldn’t be his first time breaking and entering.

Once Pete got home, he threw his bass on the couch and plopped down next to it. He looked at the clock and saw that it was almost five. He wished Bronx was here, but it was still his ex's turn. As much as he missed his fluffy-haired little boy cheering him up, it was almost a good thing Bronx was a few hundred miles away. His mental state hasn't been the best and even though this quiet house wasn't the most fun to live in during these periods, it was healthier than Bronx seeing him like this. And as seen with Brendon, maybe a bit of isolation shouldn't be taken for granted.

He sat on the couch for a few more moments simply enjoying his home décor. It was well put together; Joe wasn't lying when he said Marie had HGTV makeover shows cataloged within her brain. But his eyes drifted over to the mantel place. It was laced with pictures of himself and Patrick through the years. He tried to focus only on the full band pictures and the pictures of him and Bronx, but he couldn't ease his agitated mind.

Jumping to his feet, Pete grabbed his bass and headed down the hall. He took it out of the case and re-racked it. Before leaving the room, he looked at the corner containing signed basses. All of them had a small tag indicating the starting bid price. Ducking out of the room, he made his way upstairs.

Pete paused mid-step when he came to the partially shut door leading to his home office. He took a cleansing 'sigh' as he ran his hand through his choppy, bleached hair. Building up confidence he didn't know he possessed, he pushed the door open and headed into the dark room.

Maybe he was channeling his inner emo kid, but he didn't turn on the lights. He relied only on the light coming in through the crack in the door, the soft blue light coming from the screen on the knocked over monitor, and whatever sunset light poured in through the window. Stepping over to the decimated desk area, he sifted through the debris and fished out his phone speakers. He carried them across the room and plugged them into an open outlet. Setting his pone to his calm, relaxation playlist, Pete began his slow, gingerly work on picking up the area.

It took hours. Truthfully, he was going rather slowly and he took his time to stop and reflect on nearly every item he touched before deciding to toss it or organize it. Maybe he was secretly grateful of Patrick's destruction—he was finally forced to sort through everything in here. Around midnight, he took a small break to eat his left over pizza and sift through social media and emails on his phone.

He began work again around one in the morning. He was still going at a rather easy pace, but at times, he came to short stops. It was getting incredibly late and he was growing more and more tired as he became more easily distracted.

The moonlight transitioned to dawn when he finished tying up the last bag of waste. His papers were still on the floor, but they were neatly organized into stacks. He long since stopped the music when it began to turn into an annoyance in his ears.

With unsteady feet, Pete teetered over to the desk and attempted to stand it back up. He noticed that some screws needed to be tightened, so he went off to retrieve the tool box. After standing it back up, he realized the desk chair was in very similar condition. It took longer to fix the chair, seeing as it was in worse condition. Once he finished, he began moving things back on the desk starting with the monitor. He slowly began loading the filing folders and binders on the surface.

He remembers taking a short break because he became dizzy and his eyelids grew heavier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I still need to work on regulating emotions. :((( Every time I write, the characters cry too much and have massive mood swings. Probably because I'm so emotionally dead 89% of the time, I don't do any of that haha~
> 
> I'm so exhausted, it's almost 1am and I know that's not late for most, but I normally sleep at 11, I just wanted to finish this chapter for you! Please tell me what you think.
> 
> Next chapter is the last one. This has been an incredible journey posting my first chapter work and getting to chat with some of you. Don't forget about the event on my blog! I love you!
> 
> [My blog](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/) |[contact me](mailto:therealtrashqueen@gmail.com?Subject=Hey%20I%20found%20you%20on%20AO3) |[get a free fic](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/post/144081720015/summer-of-sin-event-get-a-free-fic-this-summer)


	6. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. This emotional journey is coming to an end. It's been a wild ride you guys! Thanks for sticking around through everything. This last chapter is long to compensate for all the time I've kept you waiting. This chapter is over 13k and it should hopefully make up for the wait. I'm sorry about getting off schedule and everything. I know this was supposed to be completed in a week but whoops~ ^^;
> 
> Don't forget to request a free fic from my summer event before it's over!! See it as a thank you gift for making it through this journey with me.
> 
> So this is the last chapter. I love you all so much. This couldn't have been done without the overwhelming support I've gotten from you. Every single comment really helped me to keep going, especially through that period of when I was feeling too down to write. Thank you. I love you and I can't be grateful enough.
> 
> Please enjoy this last chapter! <3

Pete groaned as he struggled to lift his heavy head.

"Wha-"

The sun was shining straight into his pupils and his neck hurt like a bitch. There was an annoying repetitive noise—most likely the culprit parting him from sleep. It took him a while to realize it was his ringtone for business related numbers. He tried to ignore it for a few rings, but it must have been 'urgent' as they continued calling.

Rubbing his neck and grimacing, Pete trekked across the room and picked his phone off the ground.

"Yeah," he answered in a gravelly voice.

"Hello Mr. Wentz," Pete recognized the voice immediately as DCD2's second in command. He also recognized the harsh 'Mr. Wentz' greeting as an indication that he was on a count-down timer to having his ass whooped.

He cleared his throat, stood up straighter and ran a hand through his hair. "Um, uh… Megan, hi!"

"Executive conferences with video management and publicity have been rescheduled. Conference with casting has been pushed to T minus 45 minutes. I've been calling you for hours. Where have you been?"

Pete felt his heart rate jump. He shucked his pants off and ran to his bed room. "Can we push that back any further?"

"You have two drop in appointments."

He stopped midway with pushing his arm through the sleeve of a button down. "What the hell do you mean by 'drop in' appointments? Megan!"

In a very calm, clear, yet sharp voice, Megan replied with a staccato "Pete Wentz. Get. Your. Shit."

"Okay, okay." Pete rushed to the mirror and plowed through his hair with a horse-hair brush. He started towards the bathroom. "Let me go and I'll be over soon."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Drive safe."

Pete hung up and reached for his toothbrush. She was one of the few non-band members who knew about the relationship. In addition to being his closest partner at work, he was one of his closest friends and essentially his life coach. Maybe Pete should have invited her out to drinks rather than Brendon. She would have kept him in check.

But what's past is past, Pete reminded himself as he stepped out the elevator to the top floor of headquarters. Megan turned around from the receptionist's desk as soon as she heard Pete's footsteps approaching and Pete instantly felt his chest warm up.

He'd be lying through his pearly white teeth if he said he wasn't attracted to the coworker doubling as a model. Sometimes he considered talking to Patrick about revisiting polyamory, but he'd have to bring that up with Megan too. Every time he brought up the nerve to open up the topic with either of them, he ended up putting it on the backburner. He appreciated the relationship he had with both of them and he was too afraid to permanently damage either of them.

Megan's hair flipped over her shoulder as she turned. She was pulling a cold tight smile—to seem professional—but Pete could see the friendly warmth and relief in her eyes. He took a few steps out of the elevator and crossed over to her. As soon as Pete was close enough, she hooked her arm through his and pulled him down the hall to the conference room.

Maybe Pete did have a slight masochist side, it seemed like he harnessed a sort of affinity towards aggressive behavior.

Megan stopped walking once they were out of earshot of the lobby. "Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I can tell it's been rough. You'll find the new dates for the video management and publicity meetings in your calendar; but I need you together for this casting meeting. We can't reschedule that."

Pete gave a stiff and groggy nod. "Got it."

She pushed open the door to the conference room and moved to the side to allow Pete to step past her. "And save some energy for the drop-in appointments. You're gonna need it."

He tried his best to focus on the meeting's discussions, but his mind continuously drifted to Megan's somewhat eerie words. Pete made it clear that he did not do drop in appointments—primarily because he wasn't always in office and if he was, he was typically busy. He just wouldn't be very available to them. As miffed as he was about Megan letting not just one, but two drop-ins pass the ban, it didn't surpass his current anxiety level

Megan approached his seat as he began packing up his laptop after the meeting. She preferred taking handwritten notes. "I got a text during the meeting. It was from the receptionist. She said that your first appointment couldn't wait in the sky lobby any longer. She should be at the receptionist's desk."

Pete nodded slowly.

"Well," Megan pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. "I'm heading home for the day." She gave a toothy smile. "Message me if you need me."

"Jaa ne!" Pete joked.

She gave an honest laugh at that. "Mata ne!" She ruffled his hair on her way out.

Pete sighed as he finished packing up his things. At least now everyone on casting was on the same page. He would still need to work on preparing for the meeting with publicity. He imagined spending about three or so more hours in office. He slapped his hand to his face when he remembered it would actually be five hours once he added in those walk-ins.

He was barely in the lobby when he realized he already knew who was there waiting for him.

Beatrice was pacing around in front of the receptionist's desk. She was clearly nervous; she kept picking at her hair and adjusting her clothes. She obviously put some effort into her appearance for the big day.

She was so silly; Pete just couldn't help but smile when he saw her. "Hello there!" He laughed as she jumped out of her skin. Beatrice made some flustered noises as she attempted to speak, but her lip only quivered nervously. Pete cut her off before her rambling could begin. "Follow me to my office and we'll get you started. I hope you're prepared to work today." As annoying as she could be, Pete was glad he made the decision to hire her. He needed to get some of the work load off his shoulders today.

Beatrice gave a theatric gasp. "I get to go to your office?"

Pete smiled to himself as he unlocked the door. "If you're going to be my intern, you'll be in my office quite a lot."

Her mouth remained agape at that.

He crossed the room and sat down behind his desk. Pete gestured to one of the seats in front of his desk and Beatrice scrambled over. He reached into his file drawer and pulled out some contract papers. "This is a paid internship so you'll need to fill out some tax forms." He slid a few paper-clipped sheets to her. "But I can get you started right now as a volunteer—think of it like job shadowing for you to see if you want to continue this position—by signing this sheet here." He slid her a single form and a pen. "You can read over it, but it's just a waiver with the job description."

This was clearly going over her head and Pete wishes he could spend more time with her, but he had a busy day ahead of him and she wasn't the type of person someone would like to spend extended contact with. She signed the form in a slightly dazed state.

"Thanks." He took the signed form back and filed it. He tugged a stiff smile and stuck out his hand. "Welcome to the team!"

Beatrice gripped it a tad too hard. "Oh my gosh! I am so excited! This is the best day of my life! This is the best thing that has ever happened to me! I want to help right away! How can I help?"

"Glad you asked. I'm very busy today, so I can't give you the grand tour. First things first, I need you to go to the sky lobby and bring the other walk in. During the meeting time, head over to the finances department. Let them know I sent you and have them walk you through the tax forms. Come back when you're done and we can do some work. Sound good?"

The look on her face indicated that she was still in shock that she even had this job. She gave a slow nod with a dumbfounded look on her face.

"The sky lobby?"

"Oh right!" Her face was reanimated as she changed to being fully driven on the given task. "Back in a second!"

Pete laughed to himself as she stumbled out. She was entertaining as long as it was in small doses.

He was sending his second email reply when Beatrice knocked on the door before entering without waiting for a response. "What's wrong?"

Beatrice's eyes were wide and her pupils were blown. "I-i-it's…" She looked petrified and frozen. She couldn't fight the words out. Pete realized the source of her current state when Dallon Weekes himself peered his head through the door frame.

"Hi Pete! I hope it's cool if I come in?"

A knot formed in Pete's throat. He had an unsettling feeling about Dallon's appearance. He couldn't remember the last time Dallon came to his office. "You're good." He waved dismissively as he stood up to greet him. After sharing a tight hug with Dallon, he smiled at the new intern. "Thank you, Beatrice."

"Oh right! I'll be in financing." She quickly turned out of the room.                                                                                                                                                                          

Pete pat Dallon on the back and directed him to the desk. "What's going on, man?" He took his seat behind the desk and folded his hands to keep from fumbling with them. "I haven't seen you in so long."

Dallon gave his infamous smile, the one that perfectly mixed sadness, warmth, and worry into a unique expression. He rubbed at the back of his neck before answering. "Yeah, about that… I just don't think I fit in with DCD2."

Pete's blood ran cold. "I'm sorry, Dallon. Go on, please. I want you to feel welcome."

"It's not anything you all are doing wrong. I just don't think this is where I'm meant to be. I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's hard juggling being a dad, my faith, Brendon, and being a rock star." He smiled again. "And I don't really 'click' with you guys the way Brendon does, ya know? I prefer fishing to clubbing, dad jokes to dirty ones. And Brendon… he likes being… how do I put this…? He likes being 'close' to his friends." He took a deep breath as he prepared to state his next point.

"I've been on edge about leaving for a while. Brendon came to me a few days ago and told me that you were dropping Panic! because of something he did. He was so stressed and we spent almost the whole day looking at different labels because we didn't want to go back to Fueled By Ramen. I talked to Brendon about this already, but I don't think I can juggle everything plus looking for a new label. I'm leaving Panic!. I love everyone and the band, but I don't think it's my calling."

Pete knitted his eyebrows together. Leave it to him to be the one to push Dallon out of the band. He might not be very fond of Brendon right now, but he can't put him through all this, especially knowing how he impacted Dallon too. "I was really upset with Brendon. I was honestly being so immature and impulsive. I really can't even imagine dropping Panic! now."

Dallon looked down as he smiled. "I thought that was the case." He looked up and smiled warmly to Pete. "I knew you wouldn't really drop us. But I honestly don't have the same amount of time I used to. I’m thinking of just dropping to a touring member again. That way I can still be part of the band while still having time to get my other obligations done too. And I don't think it would be fair to Brendon if I completely quit at a time when he was this stressed."

"I understand. I hope you'll consider becoming full time again while working as a touring member. Panic! is literally a one-man-band as of now. I'm glad you came to talk to me about this. Especially the part about how you feel socially excluded. I mean, the last thing I want is for DCD2 to be cliquey." He let out a tense sigh and reached into his filing cabinet again to pull out the demotion documents. Dallon already had demotion documents on file so it wouldn't be a difficult process. "You know what to do."

Dallon offered back a laugh behind a tight-lipped smile. "I sure do."

"And I really hope you decide to come back to full time again. I'll miss seeing you around." He gave an honestly broken smile. Dallon was the voice of reason for multiple people on multiple occasions. He, like Andy, were just the 'dad' type. They kept the rest of the company in line, in check, and out of trouble.

Pete was leaning on folded arms, making polite conversation with Dallon about their children when he heard a knock at the door. "Come on in." He shouted.

He was expecting Beatrice to stumble into the room in her usual eager yet anxious manner, but seeing Patrick instead was a sweet surprise.

"Oh, hi Dallon." Patrick greeted him sweetly. He gently crossed the room and sat in the seat next to Dallon. "What's that?" Patrick's innocent face looked so broken when he read the 'Demotion Request Form' title at the top of the document. "You're leaving again?"

Dallon pursed his lips. His face somewhat reflected the hurt in Patrick's face. "Yeah. I am. But it's all for the best."

"Will you be coming back this time?"

"Can't say for sure, buddy. But you're acting like I'll never see you again! It's all up to communication between us as a friends rather than coworkers for now."

Patrick nodded but he was still visibly upset about the demotion.

Dallon bit his lip and glanced over at Pete. "How about I turn this in tomorrow or a bit later? Maybe I should talk to Brendon about any roles I can still play."

Pete knew very well that Dallon only wanted to escape—which was understandable, Patrick's puppy eyes were difficult to defeat. "That's not a problem. You can drop it off after the chat. Or fax it if you'd rather not make the drive."

He stood up and clutched the packet close to his chest. "I'll stop by. I'm not trying to avoid you guys. Promise." He hummed a light laugh as he smiled kindly. "Well then, I'll see you two later then?"

"Bye Dallon." Patrick looked sad through his smile.

"We should get together for one last super band meet up and have a jam session," Pete offered.

"That sounds splendid!" Dallon nodded. Patrick brightened up at that as well. "Send me a calendar invite." He waved to his friends before turning to the door. "I'm off then!"

"See you soon!" Pete waved as Dallon shut the door behind him. Pete wasted no time. As soon he heard the 'click' of the door closing, he grabbed Patrick by his shirt collar, stood them both up, and slammed his lips against the younger man's.

Patrick grabbed his face and shoved his tongue in the mouth he knew just as well as his own.

Pete pulled harder on his shirt and Patrick climbed up the desk. He swung his legs over as Pete pulled himself between them. Pete removed the grip on his shirt to rub his hands up and down Patrick's sides, softly grabbing at the flesh as he did so. To his surprise, Patrick moaned in his mouth at the feeling, and wrapped his arms around Pete's neck.

"Fuckin' missed you." Patrick growled out as he pulled back for air.

Pete slid his hand down Patrick's lower back. He pushed his hand into the waistband and gripped at the part of his cheek that wasn't seating him. Patrick rewarded him with a wide-mouthed moan. "Hmm, I can see that," Pete teased.

Grabbing Pete's waist, Patrick pulled his crotch in closer to his. He massaged at Pete's hipbones with his thumbs. "I know we talk about being more romantic and all," He stopped to moan as Pete kissed at his neck. "But it's been so long." His breath hitched when Pete brushed his thumbs over Patrick's clothed nipples. "But I really want your cock."

He jutted his hips into Patrick's at that. Hearing Patrick say dirty things never lost an effect on him. "Can't fuck you right now babe. I've got work to do." Patrick may or may not have heard this; he unbuttoned Pete's pants and rubbed at his bulge through the boxers. "Fuck," Pete grounded out. He slid his hands underneath Patrick and lifted him slightly off the table, grabbing at his ass and pushing their erections together. "I might have missed you too."

"Hmm," Patrick removed one arm from Pete's neck and rubbed his hand over Pete's heart. He laid his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Wanna suck your dick."

The reaction Pete had was some combination of his blood running cold and his dick twitching harder. "N-now?"

"Mh-hm" Patrick nodded as he bit at Pete's clothed collarbone. Patrick stood himself up from the desk. He grabbed Pete's hips again and have him a pleading, horny look. "You should let me. I'll be under your desk here. You can still work until 5 when we can go somewhere more private."

Pete bit his lip and considered it. He did have a lot to get done. But Patrick was begging to suck his dick and he was quite sure he knew where his priorities lied.

Once Patrick saw the hesitation dissipate from Pete's face, he slowly suck down to his knees. He pulled downward on Pete's hips. "Sit down for me."

He swallowed a hard 'gulp' but obeyed Patrick's polite request.

Patrick backed himself under the table and patted at Pete's erection through his boxers a few more times before releasing him. He brought his mouth in close, but stopped centimeters away. He looked up at Pete. "Work hard, okay?" He winked with that.

It took a bit of effort for Pete to stop himself from izzing from just that sexy little innocent act. He brought in a deep breath. "You too, dear."

Pete tried his best to get work done—he really did. But Patrick knew exactly what he was doing. He was being slow and dragging out each movement, each drag of his tongue, and each soft graze from his teeth. He kept bringing Pete to the edge of climax and back down again. Pete almost hated him for it. He couldn't focus on a single document on his desk. He turned his attention to his computer to work on emails, but Patrick was making everything difficult.

He was running his tongue up and down the underside of Pete's dick. Pete's been looking at the same meeting invitation on his Outlook calendar for no less than ten minutes. Patrick pulled his mouth away slowly, and Pete could just see the seductive trail of saliva trailing from Patrick's plump lips to his throbbing head.

Pete was finally sending the response to the calendar request when he heard his door swung open. He felt Patrick's hand tense up.

"Mr. Wentz!" Beatrice beamed from the doorway.

"The fuck is she?" Patrick whisper-growled.

Pete resisted the urge to kick him under the table. He could only pray that Beatrice didn't hear him. He slapped a hand to his face and slowly dragged it down, half-hoping he could disguise his flushing. "'Pete' is fine, thank you."

Annoyed at being ignored, Patrick make a few quick strokes at Pete's dick, lapping at the tip with his tongue as he did so.

"You're my intern Beatrice, no need to be so formal with me." He made the statement in a harsh gritty voice. He hoped Patrick would understand the message was to him.

"Oh my! Sorry about that… uh… Pete." He let out a high pitched giggle-shriek sound after she called Pete by his first name. "I've just finished work with the receptionist. She's very sweet. I enjoyed her company and she really loves Fall Out Boy! Did you know that? Well, I'm sure you do. I mean, I don't think you would hire someone who didn't."

"What the fuck?" Patrick whispered aggressively. "Why does she talk so much?"

"Shut up!" Pete shushed back at him.

"W-what?" Beatrice's eyes went wide and she looked incredulous.

Pete dropped his head into his hands. "Shit, no. Not you." Beatrice blinked in confusion. Pete pretended to be looking at some papers on his desk. He gestured to them in mock anger. "It's just that these statements are incorrect and I hate when people mess things up. It's just one big noisy mess.

She looked incredibly relieved. "Oh well then, I'm here for the extra work you had for me."

Meanwhile Patrick was throwing himself a ball. He reasoned with himself that an intern wasn't a threat enough to Pete's work to make him stop. Shifting his focus back to what put him under his desk in the first place, Patrick put his hand back and began to gently massage Pete's balls. He laughed to himself and whispered softly, "I'll show you what 'one big noisy mess' looks like".

Pete flinched hard.

Beatrice jumped in reaction. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine sorry. Just a little jumpy I guess…" Pete reached under the desk. He slapped Patrick's hat off his head and pulled at his hair angrily.

"Oh! I totally understand!" Beatrice clapped. "High stress will do that to you, and I know a lot about being highly stressed. But not as much as you, Pete! You have such an important job and…"

"It's okay. Please." He held his head in one hand and put out the other toward Beatrice in a 'stop' signal. "I really want to get out early. I'm sure you understand."

Patrick must not have taken the hair pulling signal the way Pete intended. He was hoping Patrick would take it as a signal to cut it out, but he seemed to interpret it as Pete egging him on. Patrick moved his hand to Pete's shaft and slowly rubbed across the length, all while letting out hot breaths over his motions.

"Don't worry! It's understandable! Who wouldn't want to get out of the office early on a—"

"Please sit down." He motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk and she shuffled over silently. Pete took a deep breath in. How was he going to do this with Patrick making everything increasingly difficult? "Do you have a computer with you?"

She smiled wide and reached into the messenger bag to retrieve a slim laptop. "I am so glad I brought this! I knew it would come in handy!"

"Good, good." Pete said the words in a deep sigh with his eyes closed. Patrick just took Pete's entire length into his mouth. This was going to be one of the most difficult encounters he's ever experienced.

Beatrice blinked at the odd reaction, but didn't make too much of it.

Taking in another deep breath to regain his composure, Pete directed his attention back to Beatrice. "I need you to take these notes," He passed her a manila folder with a sticky note of today's date stuck to the front. "And type them into the worksheet for the minutes—I'll email that to you. And if you find any confirmed engagements, please add those to my calendar."

She had a bright twinkle in her eye, fully ready to submerge herself in work and please her boss. "Roger that! I'm on it sir!"

Pete meant to give a deep throated chuckle, but with Patrick messing with him, what came out was a deep, quiet moan.

When Beatrice tilted her head in confusion, he smiled hard and offered her two thumbs up, which she gladly returned.

Turning his attention back to his computer, Pete tried to focus on finishing all he planned to get done at work today. He really wanted to go home early. One would think Patrick would understand that, but his behaviors were only slowing down Pete's process. He still had to finish sorting through his emails. He often struggled getting through is inbox on days when his mind was elsewhere and he just wanted to go home, but Patrick was making this harder than it ever had been for him. He spent so much more time on the task seeing as he had to read the same lines over and over again because it was near impossible to focus on the sentences before him.

He was in the middle of typing a lengthy reply to the director of social media when Patrick decided he wasn't making Pete's life difficult enough yet.

Beatrice was making polite conversation by telling a story the whole time. Pete couldn't tell you what the story was about at all. He wasn't purposefully ignoring her. Between his work and Patrick's distracting behaviors, he gave up on following her story long ago. He did his best to give hums and one syllable replies when necessary.

"…And I kept telling them it wasn't my medications! I said 'No! The real Pete Wentz!" I told them. I mean, they still didn't believe me but why would I ever make something like that up, ya know?"

"Ah," he cracked. Pete flushed hard through his tanned skin. He let out an open mouth, breathy moan of pleasure that caught both of them off guard.

"Pete..?" Beatrice looked rather concerned.

Pete saved his message as a draft. Patrick was being relentless. Pete could feel him bobbing his head faster, and he wondered if Beatrice could pick up any movements or not. But Patrick's objective at this point was clear. He wanted to make Pete come and he wasn't going to stop until that happened.

Turning off his monitor, Pete placed a hand under his chin and turned to Beatrice. "Sorry about that." His voice was slightly muffled; he covered his mouth with his hand a bit. "I'm planning on ending my shift about now. Are you almost done with work?"

Beatrice nodded eagerly. "I am! There's a lot of notes—this must have been a long meeting!—but there's not too much left!"

Pete nodded. "How about you only work on the calendar events? We can always finish up the minutes the next time we're in office."

"Sure thing, Pete! I'll get us out of here in a few minutes! When should I work again?"

Pete winced. Patrick placed both hands on his hips. He felt Patrick lock open his jaw as he leaned forward and deep-throated him. "Uh, well… ah… here," With shaky hands, Pete reached across his desk and tore off a sticky note. "Why don't you just text me?" He clicked open a pen and wrote down his number. "This is my personal number, send me a text tomorrow and we can work out a time."

Her pupils were blown. "This… Your personal number? This is your cell phone?" Pete could see her vibrating with excitement.

He let out something between a moan and a sigh, "Yeah…" Beatrice was too absorbed in memorizing every digit written on the sticky note to notice Pete's odd response. He ran his hand through his hair and inhaled sharply. "Yeah, that's my personal. Please be respectful. Use it sparingly."

"Oh I will Mr. Wentz."

Pete slipped a groan that he did his best to pass off as a sound of annoyance. "Please, it's Pete." He blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He gestured to the work in front of Beatrice. "Let's try to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Right! Okay!" Beatrice ducked her head and returned to her work with a smile on her face.

Pete did his best to keep his composure, he used his pen to scribble down incoherent notes on the yellow notepad on his desk. Patrick was going at it, and by this point, his goal was clear. He wanted to make Pete come right now in his office in front of Beatrice. Patrick sped up the pace, and Pete involuntarily threw his pen down. The sound was loud enough to catch Beatrice's attention; she looked up.

"Uh," Pete fidgeted uncomfortably. "So uh, how was your first day?"

Her face immediately lit up. "It was just great! I got to meet so many amazing people today."

Pete let his eyes flutter shut. He was close. "Hm-hm. Is that so?" Pete couldn't exactly say he was listening. He was trying his best to hold the conversation and seem at least somewhat present despite his current state.

"But the highlight was working with you! You made all this possible!"

Pete had a tight grip on the edge of the desk. His knuckles were turning white. Patrick was sucking hard and deep. Pete was sure the movement of his chair was visible.

"I really did get to meet some amazing people today."

"That's just amazing…"

"It is!" Beatrice closed her laptop shut. "I was really excited to see Dallon Weeks!"

Pete couldn't hold on anymore. He just as he was about to come into Patrick's mouth, he purposefully banged his fist on the edge of the table table to cover up his reaction.

"Oh my God!" He moaned as he forced his face into a grimace. Patrick held him deep in his throat to be sure that he swallowed every drop. It was too much for Pete.

"Pete!" Beatrice covered her mouth and her eyes flew open wide. "What happened? Is your hand okay?"

He slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was coated in a thick layer of lust and bliss. He tried to breathe evenly to slow down his heart rate. "I'm… I'm okay…" He let out a long breath. "So sorry about that." Pete pulled a smile at his lips. "You were saying, about work today?"

"Right…" Beatrice's eyebrows were knitted together and she tilted her head in confusion. "You're a lot more odd than you present yourself to the public. But that's a good thing! I like you! You make me believe that maybe I can convince people I’m a lot cooler than I am. Not that you're not cool or anything, you are. In fact, I think you're even cooler now that I know you as a person."

Pete's senses were slowly returning to him. Patrick had pulled away. He was tucking Pete back in and him up. Pete could only pray that Beatrice didn't hear any of that. "That's very sweet of you to say… I think…"

"I hope I get to meet more people while I'm working here."

"Who are you looking forward to meeting most?"

Beatrice's eyes lit up again. "Definitely Brendon Urie! I've admired him for as long as I could remember. And this might be a pipe dream, but I've always wanted to meet Gerard Way! And I certainly want to meet the rest of Fall Out Boy. I've been dreaming of meeting Patrick ever since that first encounter we had where you told me about his struggle with asthma and everything."

Patrick sure didn't give himself an asthma attack chocking on Pete's dick.

"You'll definitely get to meet Patrick, Bee."

Her eyes were dilated to black. "You called me Bee…"

"Just text me when you're available and maybe we can arrange a lunch or something."

What Pete failed to notice, was that Beatrice was no longer looking at him, her attention had been directed to the space next to him. Pete paled and slowly craned his neck to follow her gaze. Patrick was standing behind him. He was adjusting his hat on his head and he was wearing a look Pete couldn't wait to punch clear off his face.

"Why make her wait, Pete?" Patrick winked at him as he licked his lips.

Pete decided Patrick would suffer for this.

He sauntered around the desk and held a hand out to Beatrice. "I'm Patrick Vaughn Stump, lead singer of Fall Out Boy and the face behind Soul Punk."

Beatrice looked like she had died in awe. Her eyes were wide and teary as her mouth hung agape.

"He's also one smug little bitch." Pete rolled his eyes and swung his office seat around in annoyance. The normally humble and quiet Stump was hiding this asshole side of himself? Pete wondered to himself if this was some sort of payback. How long would this behavior go on for?

Stepping back over, Patrick wrapped his arm around Pete's shoulders. "And this is Pete. He's my best friend!" Patrick laid a kiss on Pete's cheek. Pete wished his stubble was composed of iron blades. "And you're Beatrice? The new intern, I gather?"

"I… I… I…" Beatrice seemed dangerously dazed. She got a stern look on her face. She began pinching her skin hard enough to leave bruises. "I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming." She kept repeating to herself.

"No, no!" Pete waved his hands at her. "Don't do that; you could hurt yourself." He smiled at her. "You're awake, Bee."

She melted a bit. "You called me 'Bee' again." She smiled brightly at the two. "Can I get a hug? Please?"

"Aw, of course!" Patrick answered.

Beatrice stood up and Patrick walked over to embrace her. She smiled and thanked him when they pulled away. "You too if that's okay, Pete. I don't think I've asked yet."

"Aww." Pete failed at stifling a smile as he made his way over. He almost forgot the cuteness that drew him to Beatrice in the first place. She was so innocent.

"Oh! Wait!" She exclaimed in the middle of the hug. She pulled away and gave Pete an overly frightful look. "My CD! You still have to sign it!" She looked down at the ground in embarrassment. "And maybe Patrick can sign it too if he's okay with that?"

Patrick couldn't keep his cocky act up any longer. He loved his fans so much, it brought out his true self. "Bee, that's so sweet. I'd love to sign your CD." He smiled warmly and Beatrice blushed. "I have some vinyl too if you like those."

"Oh my goodness!" She clutched a hand over her heart. "I love vinyl! They're so expensive and sell out early, so I don't have any from you guys. But I have a collection of older things."

He was wearing the cute smile with a small blush that Pete was familiar with. "I love vinyl too! I have far too many records and cassettes! There's just something so authentic about their slightly rustic sound."

"I totally agree! I—oh!" She blinked. "I almost forgot to ask, why were you under Pete's desk? How long were you there?"

Pete paled. He swung his seat around again, turning his back to the two and looking out the windows behind him.

Patrick lifted his fedora and placed it back down nervously. "I just… I decided to visit Pete and I uh… I wanted to take a nap. I didn't want to take up the chairs or ruin the look of his office with someone sleeping in one of the chairs."

"Oh, that makes sense." Despite how odd she thought it was, she seemed to buy it. Pete and Patrick simultaneously let out a breath. She reached into her bag. "Here's the CD." She passed it to Pete who signed it with a sharpie on his desk before passing it on to Patrick. Beatrice smiled brightly. "Thank you so much!" She slid the CD back into her bag. "I really hope I'll be able to meet all the members someday."

"I'm sure you will," Pete encouraged.

"Well then," she clapped, "Thank you so much for today. It was the best day of my life!"

"I'm so glad!" Patrick chimed in. "I'm glad I got to meet you!"

She seemed to melt at hearing that. "I'm going to head out now." She pointed nervously at the door behind her with her thumb before scurrying across the room to the doorway. "Thank you so much for everything." She quickly shut the door behind her.

"She seems nice." Patrick said with this arms folded.

Without moving his gaze from the doorway, Pete spoke in a harsh staccato. "I. Am going to. Murder you."

Patrick shot him his sweet familiar smile. It didn't sit well with his cocky attitude. "You can't because you love me."

Pete looked at him with a pained smile. "You're right, I do love you. Will you drop the act please? You embarrassed me, okay?"

"Whew," Patrick blew out and visibly relaxed. "I'm glad the job got done."

"How long are you going to keep doing this?"

Patrick tapped his chin cutely. "Hmm… until I feel you suffered enough I guess."

"So never?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Patrick gave him a warm smile. "Are you done working now?"

Pete slapped his hands down on his lap and looked around. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll come in tomorrow to finish up emails. I didn't exactly get a thorough look at them, you know."

Patrick looked away as his cheeks reddened. "Not sorry." He said shyly. "Can I take you home? I'll drive you in tomorrow; I just really want to spend some time with you."

Pete smiled and felt his chest warm up. "'Trick, that's so sweet." He stood up and walked over to Patrick. He cupped Patrick's face in his hands. "I'd love to spend more time with you too."

Their eyes connected in the way that only the two of them could do. They looked into each other's hearts with placid smiles curved onto their faces as the world faded away around them. Patrick slid his hands around Pete's waist. Pete's smile widened to reveal his teeth and Patrick let out a small laugh. This was home. And they were returning to it.

Taking a deep breath in, Patrick pulled away slowly and grabbed Pete's hand. "Let's go, Pete. We have a lot of lost time to make up for." Pete allowed himself to be pulled out of his office.

Pete locked the door after him on the way out. They waited to hold hands again until they were in the elevator.

"I should really have your car towed." Pete commented. Patrick parked his car next to Pete's 'reserved for president' spot in the 'reserved for vice president' spot.

"I came in late and this afternoon and saw this spot was open, so I figured she wouldn't be coming in later today."

"Well you guessed right," Pete said as he slid into the passenger seat. "She left early today." He smiled at Patrick as his boyfriend took the driver's seat.

They were driving in silence for a while, just enjoying the late afternoon sun. Pete looked up from his lap in time to see Patrick pass his exit. He raised an eyebrow at the man in confusion.

"Okay," Patrick laughed. "You got me. I'm holding you hostage.

"Aw man!" Pete groaned jokingly, pretending he was upset. "Is this another form of payback?"

"You're right it is. It's actually going to be a long ride."

Pete didn't need Patrick to tell him that; he saw Patrick take the exit out of the city. He assumed Patrick must know where he was going since the GPS wasn't up. That detail made Pete feel much more comfortable in this situation. "How far off are we talking here?"

Patrick dropped a hand on Pete's knee and gave a firm shake. "It's about 45 minutes off. Sorry about kidnapping you."

"You know, 'Trick. Most people don't apologize for kidnapping."

"Well," Patrick chuckled in his little musical laugh. "Most people aren't very polite these days." Patrick spared a quick smile at Pete. He pressed play on the car radio.

Pete knew which CD it was as soon as he heard the first note. "I never knew you were a fan of the Life Is Strange soundtrack."

"Who isn't?" Patrick joked back at him.

"You have a point there. I have the CD too. Andy told me about it."

"Andy is such a great friend." Patrick let out absentmindedly.

Pete nodded resolutely. He thought back to the time in his office the other day. "He really is."

They spent the next 45 minutes riding in mostly silence with a few smiling glances exchanged at each other. Every few minutes or so, one of them would turn to the other and say, "Remember the time when…" or "Remember how stupid you looked when…" It may have been just under a week that they had spent without each other, but it was long enough to make them reminisce the past and reflect on their lives in the "old married couple" way they truly were.

Pete kept staring out the window every so often. He knew he wasn't familiar with this area; he knew that he wouldn't be as soon as he saw the 'Thank you for visiting Chicago' sign so long ago. He couldn't tell if he'd been down this road before or not. All of Illinois looked the same to him anyway. He spent so much time in the city, he almost forgot that he lived in Corn Land.

He just trusted Patrick new where he was when he pulled onto a dirt path and parked the car somewhere in the grass.

Pete just stared at him.

Patrick blushed.

"This is my uncle's farm. I visit here sometimes. I just haven't brought you here to meet him because he's a bit more… old timey."

Pete nodded. He understood. He had extended family who didn't know about their relationship either.

"But I used to spend summers here when I was a kid before I joined Fall Out Boy. All summers after 2001 were spent touring or working with you guys. But this used to be one of my favorite places. Especially after my parents' divorce. I could just lay down in the grass or the fields—depending on the year—and escape from my life. It really helped out, especially when I found out I was gay."

"Thank you for taking me here." Pete smiled sincerely at Patrick.

He shook his head and laughed lightly. "Sorry for holding it from you for all this time." He opened the door and swung his legs out the car.

"You deserve this little haven to yourself. I'm lazy so I run to my little notebook and write lyrics." He followed Patrick out to the trunk. "This just seems a bit more…" He flipped his hand and looked up as he tried to think of a word to describe it. "Nicholas Sparks?" He laughed.

Patrick punched him in the arm. "Shut up." He popped open the trunk to reveal a bunch of blankets, a picnic basket, and their instruments in the cases.

"Heh," Pete folded his arms and gave Patrick a knowing look. "When is the movie releasing for this one Mr. Sparks?"

He only rolled his eyes in response. Grabbing an armful of blankets, he started walking up the hill next to them. "Stop making a fool out of me and help out!" He called as he jogged back to the car.

The two of them set the blankets out and portioned out the dinner that Patrick told him his mother helped him make. They enjoyed the meal, quietly respecting the presence of one another. Patrick returned the empty Tupperware back into the basket and brought their instruments in front of them.

"I know it's cheesy, and make as many Sparks jokes as you want, but…" Patrick gestured his arm out to the scenery around them. The setting sun behind the soft hills created a wonderfully pink hue in the sky around them. "Do you want to play until the sun goes down?"

Pete chuckled, but he reached for the bass anyway. "Haha… 'Play'."

"Really Pete?" Patrick tried to look stern and disappointed, but he couldn't suppress the laugh.

Patrick sat with this hands in his lap as Pete unzipped the bass from the case. If Pete was paying more attention, he would have realized how odd Patrick was acting, but he couldn't wait to get his hands on the instrument. Pete gasped when he pushed the case open.

"'Trick…" He had to work to push the words out. He was so shocked, it felt like the wind was taken straight out of him. "This is…"

He fiddled with the brim of his hat and turn his head away, blushing nervously. "I know it's kind of cheesy and hipster… but I saw it in this issue of _Strings Limited_ and thought it was nice…" His gaze shied up to Pete's eyes. "It was a good deal if you got the set with the guitar too. If you don't l—"

Patrick found himself unable to continue. Pete flew onto him and pulled him into a tight hug. "No, I love it." He twisted Patrick's shoulders and smiled at his partly surprised, partly embarrassed expression. They locked eyes for a few moments. Pete felt the world blur out anything that wasn't his Patrick that he held in his arms. "I love you."

A smile grew on his lips from a breathy laugh. Patrick shook his head slowly. "I love you too. I—" He pulled away and scooted out of Pete's arms. He put a fingernail to his mouth and found himself unable to look at Pete again. "I just…"

Pete's heartbeat kicked up. His eyebrows knitted together and he felt his throat grow scratchy. "Patrick… 'Trick baby… What's wrong?"

Folding his arms, his eyes drifted back to Pete, but they were glistening. "Pete, I am so sorry about what I said to you." Pete opened his mouth, but Patrick cut him off before he could say anything. "I think about it so much. That time when you made dinner at my house. I told you to swallow a bottle of Ativan. Pete!" Patrick threw his hands up to his eyes, knocking his glasses unto his forehead, hoping he could wipe away the tears before the fell. "I am so, so sorry about that. I should have never said that!" He let out a broken sound of a strangled cry.

"Patrick…" Pete wrapped his arm around Patrick's waist and pulled his hands away from his face. Patrick was hyperventilating with his tears, but Pete wiped his tears away with his thumb and rocked Patrick slowly. "I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't mean it, Pete. I wish I had said something then," he had to take a few quick breaths in order to speak through his crying, "But I was just being such a bitch. I… How could I let myself say something so horrible?"

Pete closed his eyes. He pulled Patrick into a tight hug. When he opened them, he had a sad smile across his lips. "I forgive you."

Patrick froze for a few moments. He threw himself at Pete, gripped his shirt, and buried his face into Pete's chest.

"But you shouldn't!"

"You shouldn't have taken me back."

Patrick pulled away slowly as he looked at Pete's broken smile.

"I cheated on you with one of our best friends. Nothing! Nothing you ever do to me or say to me will compare to that. I am so grateful for our relationship. Thank you so much."

He cracked a smile at that. "We sure do suck."

"Yeah," Pete pushed Patrick's hat down so that it covered his eyes.

"Hey!" Patrick pouted as he adjusted it.

"We really do." He pulled the galaxy print acoustic bass out of its case and put it in his lap. "Come on," he slapped Patrick's back. "Clean yourself up and pick up your weapon. Sunset is upon us."

Patrick laughed and wiped at his eyes before sliding his glasses back into place. He unzipped the guitar case and pulled out the matching acoustic guitar.

"Huh," Pete commented as he did a test strum on the bass.

"My mom and I tuned them while the food was cooking." Patrick informed him.

"I see," Pete tested out a few more notes. He leaned over and kissed Patrick on the cheek. "Tell your mom I said 'thank you' then."

Humming a light giggle, he smiled at Pete. "I will." Patrick started strumming out a song. Pete caught on immediately and picked up the bass line. Patrick closed his eyes as he sang.

_"They say we are what we are  
But we don't have to be,"_

He cracked an eye open and looked at Pete. Pete panicked slightly, but he followed through with his gravelly voice.

_"I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way,"_

Patrick smiled as he nodded. He picked up the rest of the verse.

_"I'll the watcher of the eternal flame  
I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams."_

The two of them harmonized together. Patrick's smile grew; he loved when Pete sang with him even, even if Pete didn't enjoy singing himself. They sang the chorus in unison, sitting side by side as they watched the sun dip into the horizon. It was everything Patrick imagined when his mother suggested the idea.

When he played the last note, Pete buried face into Patrick's neck, kissing lightly at the skin there. "I’m surprised." Pete started in a joking tone.

"What? Why? Because I made you sing with me?"

"No, not that." Pete sat up straight. He gave Patrick a mischievous look. "You actually remembered the lyrics to _Immortals_."

Patrick clicked this teeth. "Oh har, har." He stuck his tongue out. "I do practice sometimes."

Pete adjusted his gaze back to the sunset. "I believe we still have time for another song." Patrick nodded in response. "I get to pick this time." He started playing a light tune and Patrick started following along. "But I'm not singing this time!" He added in quickly.

Rolling his eyes, Patrick started singing the first verse.

_"When Rome's in ruin_  
We are the lions free of the colosseums  
In poison places, we are the anti-venom  
We are the beginning of the end

_Tonight…"_

Patrick's singing cut off abruptly. Pete latched his lips onto Patrick's neck and began to kiss him passionately. He pulled away and looked at Patrick. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, Pete chanted the lyrics.

_"The foxes hunt the hounds…"_

Patrick rolled his eyes in response.

_"It's all over now,"_

Pete brought his lips to Patrick's earlobe. Patrick continued singing with a shake in his voice. He had a hard time concentrating on his voice as his blood decided to run down south.

_"Before it has begun  
We've already won."_

"Keep going." Pete whispered into Patrick's ear. He had stopped playing; Patrick turned his head over just in time to see Pete gently placing his bass down. He shuffled over on his knees behind Patrick.

_"We are wild"._

Pete ran his hands down Patrick's sides. He brought his lips back to Patrick's earlobe and whispered the next line into his ear.

_"Do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?"_

_"Yeah!"_

Patrick used the exclamation in the lyrics as a response to Pete's inadvertent way of asking for sex. But he winked up at Pete just to make sure he knew the message was conveyed. Pete looked back at him with a hint of relief in his smile.

"You know, Pete?" Patrick asked as he strummed out the instrumental.

"What is it Patty Cakes?" Pete asked in a purr of a voice. He was letting his hands roam down Patricks' body.

Patrick wiggled his legs subconsciously when Pete placed his hands on his thighs. He had to concentrate hard to avoid messing up while playing the melody. "You were teasing me for messing up lyrics, but you just skipped a huge chunk of the song.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. "Mm, no. I'm aware." Pete leaned forward so Patrick could look him in the eye. "I just wanted to ask you." Leaning over more, he sunk Patrick into a deep and passionate kiss. Patrick pulled his mouth away abruptly.

_"Come on make it easy_  
Say I never mattered  
Run it up the flagpole."

Pete pouted a bit at Patrick's decision to sing rather than kiss him more. He crawled around Patrick until he sat in front of him. Pete plucked the hat from Patrick's head and tossed the fedora behind him near his bass. He stared down Patrick as he sang for a few seconds—he always looked so much cuter, innocent, and vulnerable without his beloved hat—before he decided to gently push him onto his back. Patrick flashed a quick look of fear, his hands were on the guitar so he had to trust Pete to lay him down gently. One look at Pete and Patrick closed his eyes. He laid on his back as he played and sang, enjoying the warmth of the sunset on his skin and the nature around him to the relaxing tune of the song.

_"We will teach you_  
How to make  
Boys next door  
Out of assholes."

Taking advantage of the lyrics yet a second time, Pete reached his hands underneath Patrick and gave his cheeks a tight grope as he said 'assholes'. Without even realizing it, Patrick gave a genuine laugh in the song from Pete's unexpected touch.

_"Tonight  
The foxes hunt the hounds,"_

Patrick nearly missed the note when Pete unexpectedly growled and bit him on the thigh. He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm a fox!" He whispered.

Patrick pulled face as he sung the next lines.

_"It's all over now  
before it has begun,"_

Rising up to his knees, Pete leaned over Patrick and propped himself up with a hand planted by Patrick's head. He cupped and groped the growing budge in his pants.

Patrick finally messed up and stroked the wrong key. He paused and looked up at Pete in embarrassment.

"And I've already won." Pete initially wanted to flash a smug smirk at Patrick, but he looked so defeated at messing up the song. Pete patted him on the shoulder. "Hey it's okay." He leaned down and kissed Patrick on the cheek; it seemed to perk him up a little bit. "Come on. Lose the guitar. I wanna make you feel good."

He sat up a little to push the guitar off of him and set it a little stretch of blanket away to safety. He looped his arms around Pete's neck as he lowered himself back down on his back. Pete kissed him sweetly and chastely. Patrick giggled at the soft action.

Pete gently shook himself free of Patrick's embrace so he could straddle his boyfriend. Pete sat directly on top of Patrick's bulge and used the position to his advantage as he pushed his own hard-on into it. Patrick rolled his head back and moaned in response. Pete smiled to himself; Patrick couldn't stop being adorable if he tried.

He roamed his hands up and down Patrick's sides again, cupping gently at Patrick's soft rolls. As he expected, Patrick was looking at him with a pained expression. "M'sorry," Pete mumbled quietly. He wasn't exactly sure if he meant it or not. Patrick turned his head away.

Leaning down, he kissed Patrick's cheek. He could feel Patrick smile as he did so.  Pete allowed his hands to move up. He gripped the soft fat of Patrick's chest. Patrick turned his head back to Pete and gave him a wide eyed look. Pete's gut twisted, but he decided Patrick wasn't putting up to much of a protest to the actions, so he continued to fondle Patrick's small chest.

Pete closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. He appreciated the weight that Patrick's been gaining. Pete felt his dick twitch within his pants as he felt the fat between his fingers. He didn't even notice the small moan he let out at the feeling.

Patrick let his eyes wander up to Pete's. Even though Pete was looking at him, it was like he was looking through him. His pupils were wide and his gaze reflected his bliss. With a sad smile on his face, Patrick pulled Pete out of his trance by pushing his shoulders until Pete was sitting up straight again. Patrick's pained smile widened as he toyed with the hem of his shirt. "Look," he bit his lip and waited for Pete to focus. Once Patrick was sure he had Pete's attention, he pulled up shirt.

Pete winced at the sight. He lightly ran his fingertips over the ridged surface from the scabbed cuts. "My baby…" Pete pushed his eyebrows up and together. He felt his heart tear. "I…" He pulled Patrick's shirt back down and leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Baby I am so sorry. I let this happen. I did this to you. I—"

"Shhh," Patrick placed his finger over Pete's lips. He continued to smile in the sad, broken way. "It's okay now, really. I love you."

Pete returned the look. "I love you too."

Patrick put a hand on Pete's side and gently pushed. Pete moved and laid down on his side next to Patrick. Patrick turned to face him and pulled him into a hug.

"Wanna see something cool?" Pete asked with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

"I've already seen your dick at least a million times by now," Patrick joked.

"Not that!" Pete playfully punched him in the arm. "Remember this?" Pete pulled his own shirt up. Patrick covered his mouth and gasped.

Patrick did remember it. In the center of Pete's abdomen was a very large bruise. It was black, purple, green, and all sorts of disgusting. "Pete I am so awful." Patrick shook his head.

"Hey, none of that now! It's actually pretty rad." Pete curled up a bit to look at his bruise. "It's like nebula." He looked back at Patrick. "I should Sharpie in a constellation or something." He tugged back down his shirt.

"Do you even know any constellations?" Patrick asked, a genuine smile returning to his face.

"Nah," Pete smiled. "But," He pulled Patrick in tight to his chest with one arm and groped his ass with the other hand. "But I know my moons."

"Fucking really, Pete?" Patrick rolled his eyes at the stupid joke. He tried to look annoyed, but he couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Pete smiled and rubbed at his stubble. "Maybe I don't know them so well then?" He tugged on the waistband of Patrick's pants. "I should probably take another look. You know, for science?"

As much as Patrick wanted to throw another bitch face at Pete, it was a clever joke. "You really suck, you know that?" Patrick laughed with his hand over his heart. He shook his head, but he found himself pulling onto his knees and unzipping his pants. Pete looked at him with hungry eyes as he lowered both his pants and underwear down his hips at the same time. Patrick winced as his hot erection hit the cool air. He saw Pete unconsciously lick his lips and crook his finger. Patrick scooted closer on his knees. Pete wrapped one arm around Patrick's midsection and pulled him to lay on his stomach. Patrick placed his hand on either side of his head and turned his head to the side to look at Pete.

Pete removed Patrick's shoes and slid the pants the rest of the way off his body. He admired his handy work.

"Yep," Pete said resolutely. "I'm definitely gonna have to land the rocket between these asteroids."

"Alright. That's enough." Patrick couldn't even laugh at how bad these jokes were getting.

"What?" Pete joked as he ran his hand over the plump curve of Patrick's behind. "Okay I'll stop." He gave Patrick a little pinch.

"Ow!" Patrick pouted at him.

"Maybe I should give you a nice spanking." He placed his full hand over one of Patrick's cheeks as a threat. "I mean, after all those times you hit me in and out of the bedroom. And for your behavior in my office today. Beatrice is still in high school, babe. I should punish you for all that naughtiness." He gave Patrick a slap, not hard enough to leave a mark or anything.

Patrick shuttered. He turned around to give Pete a calm, deadly look. "Spank me again and the next time someone loses their hand in a video, it won't be all effects."

"Aw, not even a little bit, 'Trick? You have to admit, you do hit me a lot. Besides, didn't you promise you'd try out calling me "Daddy"?"

"I don't remember it being a promise…"

"Well," Pete pinched him again. He winced. "How about you choose one?"

Patrick grumbled, Pete really knew how to be an ass when he wanted to. Once Patrick made his decision, he turned his head into the blanked and arched his back a bit to lift his ass into the air.

Pete smiled at the decision.

"I hate you." Patrick mumbled into the blanket.

"I love you too, Patty Cakes." Pete said as he rubbed the curvature of Patrick's behind. He saw Patrick bite his lip and squint his eyes shut in anticipation. Pete sighed and pulled at the collar of his shirt. "Okay, 'Trick. I'm not into hurting like you seem to be—honestly I was hoping you would pick the 'Daddy' option. But, rules are rules."

He gave the first slap. The sound echoed through the empty field. Patrick whimpered.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He shook his head.

Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Well, three times the charm?"

Patrick nodded fervently. "That sounds good."

This time, when Pete's hand connected with Patrick's rear, something different happened.

Patrick whimpered the same way he had earlier, but he slipped quiet "Daddy…" between his soft cries. He looked up at Pete with blown eye and a changed expression. "Daddy, that hurts."

"Yeah, okay. Two is enough." He scratched the back of his head and straightened up as he sat himself on his heels. He rubbed Patrick's back. "Hey, you okay there, buddy?"

Shaking his head slowly, Patrick slowly returned to the present. His face immediately reddened. "Pete what just happened?" He turned onto his back and pushed himself in to a slightly seated positon. He winced a little at the pain. "I feel funny…"

Pete waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Just… just don’t worry about it…" He suddenly perked up. "I just thought of something."

The face Patrick made in response looked so worn and tired. "What?"

"I don't like your attitude," Pete commented with his fists on his hips.

"Pete please! I'm always like this. What is it?"

"You really are," He pouted. "But I just thought, that's the first time I hit you. Ever."

Patrick immediately opened his mouth to deny it, but Pete was right. Aside from the times they play-wrestled on the tour bus or when he gave Patrick a noogie, he's never caused him any real pain before. Even during seasons of critical bipolar episodes, he never laid a finger on Patrick during his reigns of terror. "I… I guess it is." Patrick shrugged. "Well, at least it was under consenting circumstances."

"I would rather have never."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

Patrick put his hand up and Pete laced their fingers together. He pulled Patrick forward and onto him as he laid back. Patrick settled between Pete's legs. He kissed the crook in Pete's neck gently before lightly nibbling at the skin. Pete started giggling.

"Stop that… it tickles!"

Patrick laughed too. He picked himself back up. "You can be real cute when you're not an ass."

Pete smiled at that. "You're cute all the time. Even when you're being bitchy."

He leaned down quick and bit Pete's arm.

"Ouch!" Pete surveyed his arm. He could see the semi-circle of Patrick's teeth marks. "Not a bitch, huh?" Patrick only shrugged. Pete rubbed at the bite. "You know, my mom told me that there's a myth where if you rub garlic on a bite mark, whoever bit you will lose their teeth."

"I need my teeth to get us paid so don't do that."

"Joe sings pretty well too you know."

Patrick gave a tiring look. "Pete, can you just get on with fucking me please? My dick is getting cold."

There was no way Pete could suppress a laugh at that one. He covered his mouth with both hands as he let out a loud, honest laugh. Patrick didn't want to laugh at his own joke, but Pete's laugh was infectious. He couldn't tell if he was laughing at his joke or Pete's donkey-like laugh.

"Okay… But seriously, babe." Patrick pulled at the waistband of Pete's pants. "Please. There's lube in the picnic basket."

Pete laughed. "Does your mom know you packed lube?"

Patrick huffed and gave Pete a hard slap on the arm. Pete looked up at him in pain. "No she doesn't. And don't say things like that." Patrick fell on his back and stretched his arms out by his sides. He wiggled his pelvis in the air in a sort of bridge. "Fuck me!"

"Okay, okay." Pete crawled over and retrieved the lube from the basket. "Ever heard of foreplay?"

He groaned and dropped his hips onto the blanket. "What have we been doing for the past thirty minutes?"

"Oh well," Pete scratched his neck. "I guess… but that's not how we normally do it. We were mostly goofing around and talking."

"Besides, I already sucked your dick. I don't feel like doing it again right now." He made a concentrated expression. "You just want to fondle my fat more, don't you?"

The lube almost flew out of Pete's hands. He wasn’t expecting Patrick to say something like that at all. He was flustered and started stammering.

"Sorry…" Patrick started. "Too low of a blow?"

"Maybe a little?" Pete answered in a cringe.

"Sorry." Patrick turned his head away. "I know you like to, but… my cuts could reopen. I don't think either of us wants that."

There was a short period of silence as a gust of wind came by.

"Is that why you did it?"

Patrick shook his head. "No. I did it because I hated myself. I didn't think we'd ever get back together. I just took out my feelings on me."

Pete gently placed his hand on Patrick's stomach. "I wish you didn't." Pete smiled sadly. "Maybe next time you should call me up for some hate sex."

He giggled at that. "Not happening." He watched as Pete opened the bottle up and poured some into his hand. Patrick licked his lips as Pete placed his hand directly onto Patrick's dick.

"First things first," Pete started, "You said your dick was cold."

Patrick made a soft whining sound. Pete was holding him softly as he slowly rubbed up and down Patrick's shaft. Patrick made something halfway between a cry and a moan. He looked up at Pete with sad eyes. "Your hand and the lube… they're both really cold!"

Pete made a snorting sound of a laugh at that. "Pretty sucky for you right now isn't it?"

"Actually," Patrick began with a new idea, "My world would be less sucky if yours was more sucky. Know what I mean?"

He looked at Patrick with a 'what the fuck?' expression for a few seconds until he caught on. He pulled away and laughed as he dripped more lube onto his fingers. "And you were slamming my out of this world jokes just a few moments ago." Giving one last laugh at Patrick's annoyed facial expression, Pete leaned over and sunk his lips onto Patrick's cold erection as he started pushing his fingers against Patrick's opening.

Moaning unconsciously, Patrick brought his arms to his chest before flopping them back down, bent by his head. His hands closed into loose fists as he turned his head to one side. He looked absolutely adorable to Pete. He was a cute, pale, little cherub and Pete was dying to help him see it. Pete pushed the first finger in and watched Patrick's face contort before slowly relaxing. Pete pumped his finger in and out of Patrick for a few moments to get him comfortable. He waited until Patrick opened his lust glazed eyes at him before inserting a second one in.

He threw his head back and his eyes shut again immediately at the pleasurable feeling of his hole being stretched open by the love of his life. He called out Pete's name to the open field and Pete quickened the pace with his mouth. He scissored Patrick's opening to throw him off rhythm when he began thrusting his hips up and pushing his dick too close to the back of Pete's throat.

Pete continued on like that for a few moments, widening Patrick's opening while keeping Patrick's dick warm using his mouth as per request. His free hand started to migrate to Patrick's pale thigh. Pete noticed the soft rippling of Patrick's fat on his thigh as he pulsed his hips with Pete's movements. Pete tore his mouth from Patrick's shaft and substituted the loss with adding a third finger into him. He listened to Patrick let out a cry in pleasure as he began to grope the underside of Patrick's thigh.

Sinking his fingers into the soft tissue, a deep groan of satisfaction escaped Pete's lips. His cock pulsated within his pants as he indulged in the dough-like softness.

Patrick opened his eyes again. He curved his spine in and peered at Pete. As he expected, Pete had the same enlarged pupil, far gone look on his face like he always did when he partook in his fetish. Patrick dropped his head back down and sighed. He figured he should at least give Pete this.

Using the hand underneath Patrick's thigh, Pete pushed his leg up slightly higher and bit into the flesh as he simultaneously dug his fingers deeper into Patrick and brushed over his prostate. Patrick let out another long cry into the open span of land. Pete repeatedly hit the spot with finger as he sunk his teeth into the tenderness of Patrick's leg and gently sucked at the skin. He knew Patrick would have a semicircle of a bite bruise right on his thigh. The thought alone had Pete ready to remove his fingers from Patrick and start freeing himself from his own pants.

Patrick whimpered in want as he saw Pete's dick spring up when he released it from the constraints of his pants. Patrick picked himself up and sat in front of where Pete kneeled on the blanked. He took the lube from Pete's hand and licked his lips. He dropped one hand to Pete's throbbing member and poured some of the lube directly on top. Pete closed his eyes and let himself sink into the feeling as Patrick rubbed him slowly. Pushing himself forward, Patrick laid soft kisses all down Pete's cheek and collarbone as he pumped.

Pete placed his hand on top of Patrick's to still him. He pulled Patrick into a tight hug to lift him and carefully pull Patrick over his cock. Patrick hugged at his neck as he allowed himself to sink down onto Pete's lap in a fluid motion.

He shuttered and fidgeted uncomfortably in Pete's lap as Pete whispered soothing praises into his ear and nibbled at his neck. "You're doing fine babe," he breathed out, "I love you." He moved his palms around Patrick's back in a massaging motion. "Just breathe baby."

The tenseness slowly melted away and Patrick began rolling his hips. He kept his tight hug around Pete's neck and shoulders while the uncomfortable, foreign feeling transitioned into pleasure. Pete grabbed at Patrick's waist, not gripping as hard at his love-handles as he wished he could, to lift him up and guide him back down.

Picking up on the motion, Patrick started bouncing up and down on Pete's lap. This was Pete's favorite way to fuck him. He enjoyed Patrick's weighed as he slammed down on him, the slap of this thighs, and even though his shirt was still on, Pete could still see the ripple of fat on his body as it jiggled with his movements.

Patrick pulled an arm away to push the hair off his forehead. He was a fast sweater and his hair had already matted down. Pete really liked that about him. Patrick smiled up at him and Pete couldn't be happier at how wide and toothy that simile was.

"Feel good, babe?" Pete teased.

"Fuck yes!" Patrick responded with his head tilted up to the sky. He quickened his pace and allowed himself to sink down deeper each fall.

Pete thrusted up to meet Patrick's pace and hit the spongy muscle that earned him a scream from Patrick.

Patrick began clawing at Pete's back through his shirt. He started losing control of his movements and his bounces fell into sporadic motions. He was moaning out a long melodic tune that sounded like a song. It came in jagged notes, the sound disturbed by the constant bouncing.

"Pete…" Patrick whined out, "I want you so bad…"

He dug his nails into the material of Pete's shirt and whined into the crook of his neck. Patrick was letting quiet babbles of pleasure flow out of his mouth while Pete spoke kind, gentle words into his ear.

"I love you so much, Patrick." He told him. "I wish you could see how beautiful you are. I love every part of you from your body to your character. You made me the person I am today and I couldn't love you more for that. I'm happiest when I get to see your beautiful smile."

If there was anything Patrick grew tired of the most through this week, it was crying. But he couldn't help it. Maybe this wetness at his eyes were just tears of overwhelming pleasure or even joy. As he was reaching his limit he was being enveloped in physical pleasure and the verbal confirmation of emotional support from the most important man in his world.

"Pete I love you!" He couldn't say it in one try. He was cut off by tears and the feelings he held. "I need you so much. I want to be with you forever. Oh man, Pete! I love you!"

This wasn't how sex with them usually went. It was for the most part, all light-hearted with jokes and smiles and laughter. The sex they were having tonight was pure emotion. It was raw and vulnerable and real. Patrick can't recall the last time he cried during sex. He's sure Pete would know.

Pete held Patrick's hips and adjusted his angle under him to make sure that he would nail Patrick's prostate each time he came down. Patrick started his unique screams that sounded like singing. Patrick dug his fingers into Pete's hair and massaged at his scalp. He took the other hand to Pete's chest and tapped until Pete looked up at him.

"I'm close Pete. I wanna come." He threw his arms back around Pete's neck and buried his face back into the crook of his neck. "I want to come holding you. Hug me too. I don't ever want to leave you."

Just those words sent waves of pleasure to Pete. He pulled Patrick into a tight hug and thrusting into him with all he had.

Patrick was getting quieter and his grip was getting tighter. Pete knew he was close and he felt himself peaking in ecstasy as well.

Pete…" Patrick's voice was barely above a whisper. "I… I love you so much…" He sniffled. "Please don't ever leave me."

"I won't, Patty Cakes."

"Please don't hurt me anymore."

"I'll try my hardest."

"I love you, Pete."

"I love you too Patrick."

After that, Patrick let out a nearly silent sigh as he came within the tight space between him and Pete's embrace. He tightened the hole around Pete as he came, leaving only a few more thrusts until Pete followed him into orgasm. Patrick made the adorable small whine he always did when he felt himself being filled up. He shook slightly at the feeling.

Holding tight onto his boyfriend, Pete fell over onto his side and laid down like that, still holding Patrick in the hug. He slowly pulled his softening member out of Patrick and held him tighter. Patrick lost it at this point. He started crying uncontrollably. He cried loudly into Pete's shirt, screaming sobs and letting out anything still pent up inside him from the past week. Pete expected this. He rubbed Patrick's back in soothing circles as he cried.

When Patrick's cries finally died down and he pulled away, he looked up at Pete. His face was a bright red mess. Pete sat up and pulled off his shirt. He pushed Patrick up to a seated position as well. He pulled Patrick into a side hug as he blotted gently at his face. Patrick's sobs were reaching the closing gasps.

"Hey baby, it's okay now. You don't have to cry anymore." He pulled the semen stained shirt off of Patrick's back and tried consciously tried his best not to look at the cuts. "I'm here for you and I always will be."

Patrick folded his arms across his body and nodded. Pete smiled at him and left went over to gather another blanket. He sucked his pants as Patrick pulled his boxers back on. Pete came back to cover the both of them in nothing but their boxers and marred abdomens.

"The stars are beautiful out, 'Trick. I've been in the city for too long. I don't know when the last time I've seen stars like this was."

"I don't feel like putting my glasses on just to look at the sky, but I believe you when you say it's amazing." Patrick sniffled and turned to him. "I’m surprised you didn't make another astronomy joke."

"Fresh out," Pete shrugged.

Patrick sighed. "As much as I love coming out here, I've never slept out here. It's just always so cold at night and I hate it. The latest I stay out is to do a bit of stargazing before heading home. But I'm fine now. Any place I'm with you is where I want to be."

"I guess that makes sense," he started, pulling Patrick closer. "I mean, no bed is ever as comfortable as the one in your own home, right? And I'm always comfortable with you. You're my home that I'll always return to."

He laughed softly. "Write me a song about it." Turning over, he laid his head on Pete's chest and held his hand over Pete's heart. "You'll always have my heart.

Pete laid his hand over Patrick's. "You'll always be where I belong."

Patrick felt himself slipping into slumber, but he managed to get one las line out whether he was fully conscious or not.

"Thank you for coming home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you tell I was tired of this or what. Lmao, I'm sorry though. I may come back some time from now and re-write this chapter so it's a little less sloppy, but this is the last stretch and uguugh.
> 
> Do NOT forget to participate in my summer event and get your free fanfiction. Seriously people!! I'm not sure what I should write next, but have a few ideas. Who's interested in seeing me write my first PWP? A story where Pete and Patrick actually go through with the spanking and the Daddy kink?? You have to let me know if you're interested in it or not though! Because I'm also considering writing my first adventure fic where the band is trapped in hell or something and they have to use the power of their music to return home or some shit lmao. It would be parring-free, but hopefully a fun ride. Then there's also this collab idea I have with someone about the bandom apocalypse oooooooorr I'll just move on and write something for a different fandom (Marvel or Hetalia most likely). One thing I miss about ff.net is the ability to add polls to fics. So you'll just have to let me know what you're interested in.
> 
> Again, I cannot thank you enough for helping me through this. Your support was critical to the completion of this fic. Every comment brought joy to my heart. I enjoyed reading at all the times you cried, laughed, and smiled in triumph, this was really an expedition. I'm glad this is over, it's taken me over a year to write, and I'm so happy with your response to it. Like I said, remember to keep in mind that I may go back over this last chapter and rewrite it, so this journey may not be over yet! I'll just release the updated chapter as a new one, and delete this one if I do so you'll all get the notification for it.
> 
> I love you so so so much and thank you for helping me kick off my summer in one of the best ways! Love you babes!! Until next time! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to check out my blog for updates and don't forget to pick up your free fanfic!
> 
> I love you! <3
> 
> [My blog](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/) |[contact me](mailto:therealtrashqueen@gmail.com?Subject=Hey%20I%20found%20you%20on%20AO3) |[get a free fic](http://qualitygarbage.tumblr.com/post/144081720015/summer-of-sin-event-get-a-free-fic-this-summer)


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